“I am one of the law.”
Mr. Grabman bowed and scowled.
“And may I make bold to ask the name of your client?”
“Certainly you may ask. Every man has a right to ask what he pleases, in a civil way.”
“But you’ll not answer? Deep! Oh, I understand! Very good. But I am deep too, sir. You know Mr. Varney, I suppose?”
The gentleman looked surprised. His bushy brows met over his steady, sagacious eyes; but after a moment’s pause the expression of his face cleared up.
“It is as I thought,” he said, half to himself. “Who else could have had an interest in similar inquiries?—Sir,” he added, with a quick and decided tone, “you are doubtless employed by Mr. Varney on behalf of Madame Dalibard and in search of evidence connected with the loss of an unhappy infant. I am on the same quest, and for the same end. The interests of your client are mine. Two heads are better than one; let us unite our ingenuity and endeavours.”
“And share the pec, I suppose?” said Grabman, dryly, buttoning up his pockets.
“Whatever fee you may expect you will have, anyhow, whether I assist you or not. I expect no fee, for mine is a personal interest, which I serve gratuitously; but I can undertake to promise you, on my own part, more than the ordinary professional reward for your co-operation.”
“Well, sir,” said Grabman, mollified, “you speak very much like a gentleman. My feelings were hurt at first, I own. I am hasty, but I can listen to reason. Will you walk back with me to the house you have just left? And suppose we then turn in and have a chop together, and compare notes.”