He had spoken very little during the prolonged affair, and he looked sad and lowering at the end of it.

He was silent for a few moments, and then burst into a stentorian song.

His remarks (as reported) were as follows: "O Rowty-owty tiddly-owty Tiddly-owty tiddly-owty Highty-ighty tiddly-ighty Tiddly-ighty ow." He then retired from public life and took the garret in Lambeth.
I was sitting there one evening, about six o'clock, over a glass of that gorgeous Burgundy which he kept behind a pile of black-letter folios; he was striding about the room, fingering, after a habit of his, one of the great swords in his collection; the red glare of the strong fire struck his square features and his fierce grey hair; his blue eyes were even unusually full of dreams, and he had opened his mouth to speak dreamily, when the door was flung open, and a pale, fiery man, with red hair and a huge furred overcoat, swung himself panting into the room.
"Sorry to bother you, Basil," he gasped.

"I took a liberty--made an appointment here with a man--a client--in five minutes--I beg your pardon, sir," and he gave me a bow of apology.
Basil smiled at me.

"You didn't know," he said, "that I had a practical brother.