"Oh yes--to be sure--certainly," quoth Titmouse, slightly changing color--"anything, by Jove, that's in my power--but it is most particular unfortunate that--ahem!--so deuced hard up just now--but--ah, 'pon my soul, I'll speak to Lord Bulfinch, or some of those people, and get you something--though I sha'n't do anything of the kind for _Snap_--dem him! You've no idea," continued Titmouse, anxiously, "how devilish thick Lord Bulfinch and I are--he shakes hands with me when we meet alone in the lobby--he does, 'pon my life." "I am very much obliged, my dear Titmouse, for your kind offer--but I have a _little_ political influence myself, when I think fit to exert it," replied Gammon, gravely. "Well, then," interrupted Titmouse, eagerly--"as for money, if that's what--by jingo! but if _you_ don't know how _precious_ hard up one is just now"-- "My dear sir," replied Gammon, his countenance sensibly darkening as he went on, "the subject on which we are now engaged is one of inexpressible interest and importance, in my opinion, to each of us; and let us discuss it calmly. I am prepared to make a communication to you immediately, which you will never forget to the day of your death. Are you prepared to receive it?" "Oh yes!--Never so wide awake in my life! O Lord! fire away!"--replied Titmouse; and taking the tip of his hookah from his lips, and holding it in the fingers of his left hand, he leaned forward, staring open-mouthed at Gammon. "Well, my dear Titmouse, then I will proceed. I will not enjoin you to secrecy;--and that not merely because I have full confidence in your honor--but because you cannot disclose it to any mortal man but at the peril of immediate and utter ruin." "'Pon my soul, most amazing! Demme, Mr. Gammon, you frighten me out of my wits!" said Titmouse, turning paler and paler, as his recollection became more and more distinct of certain mysterious hints of Mr. Gammon's, many months before, at Yatton, as to his power over Titmouse. "Consider for a moment. You are now a member of Parliament; the unquestioned owner of a fine estate; the husband of a lady of very high rank--the last direct representative of one of the proudest and most ancient of the noble families of Great Britain; you yourself are next but one in succession to almost the oldest barony in the kingdom; in fact, in all human probability, you are the next LORD DRELINCOURT; and all this through ME." He paused. "Well--excuse me, Mr. Gammon--but I hear;--though--ahem! you're (meaning no offence)--I can't for the life and soul of me tell what the devil it is you're driving at"--said Titmouse, twisting his finger into his hair, and gazing at Gammon with intense anxiety. For some moments Mr. Gammon remained looking very solemnly and in silence at Titmouse; and then proceeded. "Yet you are _really_ no more entitled to _be_ what you seem--what you are thought--or to possess what you at present possess--than--the little wretch that last swept your chimneys here!"