Mr. Penrose, with an air of gratification, continued his narrative.
"The story goes on to tell," he said, "of a final interview with the
village clergyman, in which that reverend man, as in duty bound, solemnly
told Captain Duggle that however much he might curse, and blaspheme, and
drink, and, er, do all the other things that the Captain did (obviously
here Mr. Penrose felt hampered by the presence of ladies), yet Death,
Judgment, and Churchyard wait for him at last. Whereupon the Captain,
emitting an inconceivably terrific imprecation, which no one ever dared
to repeat and which consequently is lost to tradition, declared that the
first he'd never feared, the second was parson's gabble, and as to the
third, never should his dead toes be nearer any church than for the last
forty years his living feet had been! If so be as he wasn't drowned at
sea, he'd make a grave for himself!"
Mr. Penrose paused, sipped port wine, and resumed.
"And so, no doubt, he did, building the Tower for that purpose. By bribes
and threats he got two men to work for him. One was the uncle of my
informant.
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