“He did not allude to a notion--he did not mention a plan--he did not discuss people called O'Reilly, did he?” asked he, growing more and more confused and embarrassed. “Not a syllable with reference to such a name escaped him, sir.” “Don't you see,” said Grog, rising, “that you 'll have to look for the explanation to the second column of the 'Times,' where 'A. B. will hear something to his advantage if he calls without C.D.'?” Davenport Dunn paid no attention to this remark, but stood calmly impassive before them. “It comes to this, then, that Lackington has been hoaxing me,” said Beecher, rising, with an expression of ill-temper on his face. “I should rather suggest another possibility,” said Dunn, politely; “that, knowing how far his Lordship has graciously reposed his own confidence in me, he has generously extended to me the chance of obtaining the same position of trust on the part of his brother,--an honor I am most ambitious to attain. If you are disengaged on Sunday next,” added he, in a low voice, “and would favor me with your company at dinner, alone,--quite alone--” Beecher bowed an assent in silence, casting a cautious glance towards Davis, who was scanning the contents of the morning paper. “Till then,” muttered Dunn, while he added aloud, “A good-morning,” and bowed them both to the door. “Well, you are a soft un, there's no denying it,” said Davis, as they gained the street. “What d'ye mean?” cried Beecher, angrily. “Why, don't you see how you spoiled all? I'd have had the whole story out of him, but you would n't give me time to 'work the oracle.' He only wanted to show us how cunning he was,--that he was deep and all that; and when he saw that we were all wonder and amazement about his shrewdness, then he 'd have gone to business.” “Not a bit of it, Master Grog; that fellow's wide awake, I tell you.” “So much the worse for you, then, that's all.” “Why so?” “Because you're a going to dine with him on Sunday next, all alone. I heard it, though you did n't think I was listening, and I saw the look that passed, too, as much as to say, 'We 'll not have that fellow;' and that's the reason I say, 'So much the worse for you.'” “Why, what can he do, with all his craft? He can't make me put my name to paper; and if he did, much good would it do him.” “_You_ can't make running against the like of him,” said Grog, contemptuously. “He has an eye in his head like a dog-fox. _You_ 've no chance with him. He could n't double on me,--he 'd not try it; but he 'll play _you_ like a trout in a fish-pond.” “What if I send him an excuse, then,--shall I do that?” “No. You must go, if it was only to show that you suspect nothing; but keep your eyes open, watch the ropes, and come over to me when the 'heat is run.'” And with this counsel they parted. CHAPTER XVII. THE “PENSIONNAT GODARDE.”