So he permitted himself to be led indoors to a table by the window which stood vacant.

There were at the time a dozen guests or so in the common-room.

Trenchard bawled for wine and brandy, and for all that he babbled in an irresponsible, foolish manner of all things that were of no matter, yet not the most adroit of pumping could elicit from him any such information as Richard sought.

Perforce young Westmacott must remain, plying him with more and more drink--and being plied in his turn--to the end that he might not waste the occasion.
An hour later found Richard much the worse for wear, and Trenchard certainly no better.

Richard forgot his purpose, forgot that Blake waited for him at the Saracen's Head.