Filled with some surprise, I obeyed his summons.
On entering the room I perceived another individual, to whom Francis Ardry appeared to be addressing himself; this other was a short spare man of about sixty; his hair was of badger grey, and his face was covered with wrinkles--without vouchsafing me a look, he kept his eye, which was black and lustrous, fixed full on Francis Ardry, as if paying the deepest attention to his discourse.

All of a sudden, however, he cried with a sharp, cracked voice, "That won't do, sir; that won't do--more vehemence--your argument is at present particularly weak; therefore, more vehemence--you must confuse them, stun them, stultify them, sir;" and, at each of these injunctions, he struck the back of his right hand sharply against the palm of the left.

"Good, sir--good!" he occasionally uttered, in the same sharp, cracked tone, as the voice of Francis Ardry became more and more vehement.

"Infinitely good!" he exclaimed, as Francis Ardry raised his voice to the highest pitch; "and now, sir, abate; let the tempest of vehemence decline--gradually, sir; not too fast.

Good, sir--very good!" as the voice of Francis Ardry declined gradually in vehemence.