But if fuller description of this special bait be omitted, there
is no reason why that of the baiters and the baited should be left
out of the narrative.
Old Colonel Purviance, of the Chesapeake Club, for one--a big-
paunched man who always wore, summer and winter, a reasonably
white waistcoat and a sleazy necktie; swore in a loud voice and
dropped his g's when he talked. "Bit 'em off," his friends said,
as he did the end of his cigars. He had, in honor of the occasion
so contrived that his black coat and trousers matched this time,
while his shoestring tie had been replaced by a white cravat. But
the waistcoat was of the old pattern and the top button loose, as
usual. The Colonel earned his living--and a very comfortable one
it was--by promoting various enterprises--some of them rather
shady. He had also a gift for both starting and maintaining a
boom. Most of the Mukton stock owned by the Southern contingent
had been floated by him. Another of his accomplishments was his
ability to label correctly, with his eyes shut, any bottle of
Madeira from anybody's cellar, and to his credit, be it said, he
never lied about the quality, be it good, bad or abominable.
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