Explore "The Poacher" by Frederick Marryat on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
One evening I was sitting alone in the _salle a manger_ of the _Couronne d'Or_, at Boulogne, when Colonel G -- -, an old acquaintance, came in. After the first greeting, he took a chair, and was soon as busily occupied as I was with a cigar, which was occasionally removed from our lips, as we asked and replied to questions as to what had been our pursuits subsequently to our last rencontre. After about half an hour's chit-chat, he observed, as he lighted a fresh cigar --
"When I was last in this room, I was in company with a very strange personage."