‘You’re all abroad, seemingly,’ returned the other man. ‘There’s his letter. Take hold!’
Kit took it, and when he was locked up again, read as follows.
‘Drink of this cup. You’ll find there’s a spell in it every drop ’gainst the ills of mortality. Talk of the cordial that sparkled for Helen! Her cup was a fiction, but this is reality (Barclay and Co.’s). If they ever send it in a flat state, complain to the Governor. Yours, R. S.’
‘R. S.!’ said Kit, after some consideration. ‘It must be Mr Richard Swiveller. Well, its very kind of him, and I thank him heartily.’