"When I want your help, I'll ask for it. Now go on with your story, and heed my caution."
With ready wit the Lascar fell into Mr. Fewster's humor.
"This girl that I speak of--as pretty a picture of flesh and blood as eyes ever saw--is loved by a gentleman who in a sort of way has lowered himself to think of her. But the gentleman has made up his mind to have her, and when a gentleman makes up his mind, who shall stop him? He goes one night to the house where this pretty girl lives--I shouldn't wonder if the very flower that the gentleman wore in his button-hole wasn't intended for her"--
"You are a clever dog, you!" said Mr. Fewster, half in anger, half in admiration.
"Thank you, master. With the flower in his button-hole the gentleman goes to the house where his pretty girl lives, and there he spends the evening, and hears read, I dare say, some letters, which she has received from his rival, who is a sailor--I only speak from fancy, master; set me right if you can."
"How can I set you right when I know nothing about it, you dog, except by saying that I shouldn't think it likely she received any letters?"
"Thank you, master. My fancy was wrong, I've no doubt. The gentleman, then, is obliged to listen to some letters which have been received from abroad, and is obliged to listen to affectionate words uttered by the girl he loves for his rival far away--mind, master, I don't know this, I only suspect it--and he sees, too, in her face, that when her sailor-boy comes home, she will open her arms to his rival, to his enemy, whom he hates, and would like to see put out of the way."
"How do you know that last?"
"I have seen it in his face; I have heard it in his voice. I happened to see the gentleman come out of his sweetheart's house one rainy night, not long ago; and I happened to hear the gentleman mutter that he would give money if that sailor-lover was drowned."
"If were the gentleman, and you told me this to my face, I should say that you lied."