Full of secret motives themselves, each of these men, by habit and profession, was ever liable to suspect secret motives in every one else; and each was now desirous to be out of the other's presence; Downie, of course, most of all. The lower in rank and more contemptible in character, perhaps was less so, having somewhat of the vulgar toady's desire to linger in the presence and atmosphere of one he deemed a greater, certainly more wealthy, and a titled man; till the latter said with a stiff bow full of significance,-- "I thank you, sir, and have paid you; these are the documents I wished to possess." "I am glad your lordship is pleased with my humble services," replied Sharkley, but still tarrying irresolutely. "Is there anything more you have to communicate to me?" "No, my lord." "Then I have the--I must wish you good evening." Sharkley brushed his shiny hat with his dusty handkerchief, and the wish for a further gratuity was hovering on his lips. "You have been well paid for your services, surely?" "Quite, my lord--that is--but--" "No one has seen those papers, I presume?" asked Downie. "As I have Heaven to answer to, no eye has looked on them while in my hands--my own excepted." "Good--I am busy--you may go," said Downie, haughtily, and as he had apparently quite recovered his composure, he rang the bell, and a servant appeared. "Shew this--person out, please," said Downie. And in a moment more Sharkley was gone. The door closed, and they little suspected they were never to meet again. "Thank God, he is gone! Useful though the scoundrel has been, and but for his discovery of those papers we know not what may have happened, his presence was suffocating me!" thought Downie. The perceptions of the latter were sufficiently keen to have his _amour propre_ wounded by a peculiar sneering tone and more confident bearing in Sharkley; there had been a companionship in the task in hand, which lowered him to the level of the other, and the blunt rejoinder he had used so recently--"there are a pair of us," still rankled in his memory. Thus he had felt that he could not get rid of him too soon, or too politely to all appearance; and with a grimace of mingled satisfaction and contempt, he saw the solicitor's thin, ungainly figure lessening as he shambled down the long and beautiful avenue of elms and oaks, which ended at the grey stone pillars, that were surmounted each by a grotesque koithgath, _sejant_, with its four paws resting on a shield, charged with a Cavallo Marino, rising from the sea. "And _now_ for another and final perusal of these most accursed papers!" said Downie Trevelyan, huskily.