"You will lie here," said I, "until to-morrow morning, when you will probably be fined fifty shillings and costs, plus the cost of the broken glass at Toscano's. I take it for granted that the money will be paid?"
"I will send, sir, to my lodgings for my cheque-book."
"It's a trifling matter, no doubt, but since you will be charged under the name of William John Trewlove, it will be a mistake to put 'G. A. Richardson' on the cheque."
"It was an error of judgment, sir, my giving your name here."
"It was a worse one," I assured him, "to append it to the receipt for Miss Jarmayne's rent."
"You don't intend to prosecute, Mr. George?"
"Why not?"
"But you don't, sir; something tells me that you don't."
Well, in fact (as you may have guessed), I did not. I had no desire to drag Miss Jarmayne into further trouble; but I resented that the dog should so count on my clemency without knowing the reason of it.
"In justice to myself, sir, I 'ave to tell you that I shouldn't 'ave let the 'ouse to hany-body. It was only that, she being connected with the stage, I saw a hopening. Mr. 'Erbert was, as you might say, a hafterthought: which, finding him so affable, I thought I might go one better. He cost me a pretty penny first and last. But when he offered to introjuice me—and me, at his invite, going back to be put up at No. 402 like any other gentleman—why, 'ow could I resist it?"