Once more a pause fell.
“And so you have told me all?” said Mr. Tuke by and by.
Whimple’s colour heightened; but he was silent.
“All that is material, I mean. ’Twill serve, ’twill serve; and the rest go hang. Now, I have wronged you, Dennis, and we shall e’en be friends according to our positions.”
The man fell into thanks, with a broken voice.
“Nay,” said the other; “for all my strength you flatter, I can ill afford to walk my difficult path without support. And, tell me—you have no least knowledge or surmise of where this mighty gem lies hid?”
“I know no more, by my honour, sir, than bloody Jack himself—or whether, indeed, the fact of its existence be not a bug of evil men’s fancy.”
“That I can answer; for I have heard from whom the jewel was stole in the first instance. And now, Mr. Dennis Whimple, I must ask if you relate all this for my private ear; for I must inform you the interests of another are gravely compromised in the matter.”
“Ah, sir! do you not offer me your noble protection? Before, I stood in bitter desperate loneliness. I place the issue joyfully in your hands, to act as you anyhow will upon my statement.”
“You shall not misprofit thereby. Take rest, good fellow, and we will come to further discussion hereafter.”