"I tell you, except to you, I _swear_ to you, I haven't mentioned it to a soul on earth," exclaimed Tom. "Well, I do think, as a matter of conscience and fairness, you ought to hold your tongue, and keep faith with poor Wynne," said Cleve, rudely, "and I think he was a monstrous fool to tell you. You know I'm interested," continued Cleve, perceiving that his vehemence surprised Tom Sedley; "because I have no faith in Larkin--I think him a sneak and a hypocrite, and a rogue--of course that's in confidence, and he's doing all in his power to get a fast hold of my uncle, and to creep into Wynne Williams's place, and a thing like this, with a hard unreasonable fellow like my uncle, would give him such a lift as you can't imagine." "But, I'm not going to tell; unless _you_ tell, or _he_, I don't know who's to tell it--_I_ won't, I know." "And about Sir Booth--of course he's not in England now--but neither is he in Italy," said Tom. "It's well he has you to keep his 'log' for him," said Cleve. "He's in France." "Oh!" "Yes, in the north of France, somewhere near Caen," said Tom Sedley. "I wonder you let him get so near England. It seems rather perilous, doesn't it?" "So one would think, but _there_ he is. Tom Blackmore, of the Guards--you know him?" "No, I don't." "Well he saw old Fanshawe there. He happened to be on leave." "Old Fanshawe?" "No, Tom Blackmore. He likes poking into out-of-the-way places." "I dare say." "He has such a turn for the picturesque and all that, and draws very nicely." "The long bow, I dare say." "Well, no matter, he was there--old Fanshawe I mean--Blackmore saw him. He knows his appearance perfectly--used to hunt with his hounds, and that kind of thing, and often talked to him, so he could not be mistaken--and there he was as large as life." "Well?" "He did not know Tom a bit, and Tom asked no questions--in fact, he did not care to know where the poor old fellow hides himself--he preferred not--but Madame something or other--I forget her name--gave him a history, about as true as Jack the Giant-Killer, of the eccentric English gentleman, and told him that he had taken a great old house, and had his family there, and a most beautiful young wife, and was as jealous as fifty devils; so you see Margaret must have been there. Of course that was she," said Tom. "And you said so to your friend Blackmore?" suggested Cleve Verney. "Yes," said Tom. "It seems to me you want to have him caught." "Well, I did not think--I hope not--and I did not know you took any interest in him," said Sedley, quite innocently. "Interest! _I_--me! Interest, indeed! Why the devil should _I_ take an interest in Sir Booth Fanshawe? Why you seem to forget all the trouble and annoyance he has cost me. Interest, indeed! Quite the contrary. Only, I think, one would not like to get any poor devil into worse trouble than he's in, for no object, or to be supposed to be collecting information about him."