“Well, sir, you’ll see how much honour I mean by coming here, when you’ve learnt what brings me.” “That, I confess, I am impatient to know. But really, will you not sit?” “No, sir! I sha’n’t stay long enough to tire my legs with standing. My visit will be short, I promise you.” “I perceive you are in a mood of shortness.” “I can choose my own moods, sir,” said the Squire, rendered more savage by every successive speech of his enemy. “And I choose short moods for my visits to you. Not that I meant to pay you a visit when I left home this morning. My business took me past your gate, and, as I have something for your ears, I thought I’d as well say it soon as late.” “A very wise thought; for accidents will happen, and ’twould be a pity if anything so interesting should be left unsaid—for I know it must be interesting.” “Maybe you’ll find it so, ecod! As for leaving things unsaid, lemme tell you, sir, that’s a policy I recommend to you in future, whenever you feel inclined to try your wit upon me. If a witty thing, as you consider it, comes into your head to say against me, leave it unsaid. That’s my commands, sir, and I look to see ’em obeyed.” “Commands? Upon my soul, Mr. Thornby,—pardon my smiling,—but you are exceedingly amusing.” “Smile your bellyfull; you may laugh, too: we’ll see which on us laughs last. Ecod, we’ll see that! Try some of your town wit upon me the next time we meet in company! Try it, and see what happens.” “Can’t you spare my curiosity the suspense by telling me now?” “Yes, I can. This is what’ll happen:—I’ll answer you back by asking what you think of a man who robs the dead.” “Robs the dead?” quietly repeated Foxwell, puzzled. “Ay, a dead body, in some such place as Covent Garden, for example.—Eh, that touches you, does it?” Foxwell’s face had indeed undergone a change: for an instant he was quite pale and staring. But he recovered his outward equanimity. “Please explain yourself,” he said, with composure. “A word to the wise is enough, sir. If ever again you try to put me down afore company, or dare to take first place o’ me anywheres, I’ll tell the world who got Lord Hilby’s money that night in Covent Garden.” Foxwell drew a deep breath, and then replied as calmly as before, “Are you walking in a dream, Mr. Thornby? Really, I don’t understand you. What is Lord Hilby’s money to me?” “No use trying that game upon me, Foxwell. You know all, and I know all, and there’s an end. You’ve heard my commands: act as you think best.” “Sir, I know nothing. Your words are gibberish to me, and I say but this: if you attempt to raise any slander against me, be sure I will make you answer—”