"Come along, then." "You'll go up and ask him?" "Yes, if you'll back me up." "Back you up, lad? I should think I will. Lead on, I'll follow thee." "We'll do it sensibly, then. If you speak before Uncle Luke in that theatrical way we shall come down faster than we go up." "I'll talk to the old man like a young Solomon, and he shall say that never did youth choose more wisely for his friend than Harry Vine, otherwise Henri, Comte des Vignes." "Look here," said Harry peevishly--"`otherwise Comte des Vignes.' Why don't you say _alias_ at once? Why, if the old man heard that he'd want to know how long it was since you were in a police court. Here, you'd better stay down here." "All right, my dear fellow. Anything to help you on." "No; I'd rather you came too." There was a pause in a niche of the rocks, and then, after the scratching of a match, the young men went up the cliff-path, smoking furiously, as they prepared themselves for the attack. Volume 1, Chapter XIV. DIOGENES IN HIS TUB. Uncle Luke was in very good spirits. He had rid himself of his incubus, as he called the sum of money, and though he would not own it, he always felt better when he had had a little converse with his fellow-creatures. His lonely life was very miserable, and the more so that he insisted upon its being the highest form of happiness to exist in hermit fashion, as the old saints proved. The desolate hut in its rocky niche looked miserable when he climbed up back on his return from Van Heldre's, so he stopped by the granite wall and smiled. "Finest prospect in all Cornwall," he said, half aloud; "freshest air. Should like to blow up Leslie's works, though." The door was locked, but it yielded to the heavy key which secured it against visitors, though they were very rare upon that rocky shelf. He was the more surprised then, after his frugal mid-day meal, by a sharp rapping at the door, and on going he stared angrily at the two sturdy sailor-dressed pedlars, who were resting their packs on the low granite wall. "Can we sell a bit o' 'bacco, or a pound o' tea, master?" said the man who had won over Liza to the purchase of his coloured silk. "Bang!" That was Uncle Luke's answer as the man spoke to him and his fellow swept the interior of the cottage with one quick glance. "Steal as soon as sell any day," grumbled Uncle Luke. "Tobacco and tea, indeed!" Outside one of the men gave his companion a wink and a laugh, as he shouldered his pack, while the other chuckled and followed his example. Meanwhile Uncle Luke had seated himself at his rough deal table, and written a long business letter to his lawyer in London.