“How did you get him to part with this?” asked Davis, as he examined the volume carefully. “Well, I gave him a fancy price,--that is, I am to give it, which makes all the difference,” said Beecher, laughing. “In short, I gave him a bit of stiff, at three months, for one thousand--” “Florins?” “No, pounds,--pounds sterling,” said Beecher, with a half-choking effort. “It _was_ a fancy price,” said Grog, slowly, not the slightest sign of displeasure manifesting itself on his face as he spoke. “You don't think, then, that it was too much?” faltered out Beecher. “Perhaps not, _under_ the circumstances,” said Davis, keenly. “What do you mean by 'under the circumstances'?” Davis threw his cigar into the stream, pushed bottle and glasses away from him,--far enough to permit him to rest both his arms on the table,--and then, steadfastly fixing his eyes on the other, with a look of intense but not angry significance, said, “How often have I told you, Beecher, that it was no use to try a 'double' with me? Why, man, I know every card in your hand.” “I give you my sacred word of honor, Grog--” “To be renewed at three months, I suppose?” said Davis, sneeringly. “No, no, my boy, it takes an earlier rise to get to the blind side of Kit Davis. I 'm not angry with you for trying it,--not a bit, lad; there 's nothing wrong in it but the waste of time.” “May I be hanged, drawn, and quartered, if I know what you are at, Grog!” exclaimed the other, piteously. “Well, all I can say is _I_ read _you_ easier than _you_ read _me_. _You_ gave old Lazarus a thousand pounds for that book after reading that paragraph in the 'Times.'” “What paragraph?” “I mean that about your brother's title not being legal.” “I never saw it,--never heard of it,” cried Beecher, in undisguised terror. “Well, I suppose I 'm to believe you,” said Davis, half reluctantly. “It was in a letter from the Crimea, stating that so confident are the friends of a certain claimant to the title and estates now enjoyed by Lord Lackington, that they have offered the young soldier who represents the claim any amount of money he pleases to purchase promotion in the service.” “I repeat to you my word of honor, I never saw nor heard of it” “Of course, then, I believe you,” said Grog. Again and again did Beecher reiterate assurances of his good faith; he declared that during all his stay at Aix he had never looked into a newspaper, nor had he received one single letter, except from Davis himself; and Davis believed him, from the simple fact that such a paragraph as he quoted had no existence,--never was in print, never uttered till Grog's own lips had fashioned it. “But, surely, Grog, it is not a flying rumor--the invention of some penny-a-liner--would find any credence with _you?_”