"Hush, imprudent!" interrupted Lenoir. "Call it stock. You know not how many French spies may be passing, or how near we may be to danger."
Markby took the hint given him, and continued—
"Well, stock. He can place more—he has probably placed more than any man alive. He travels about en grand seigneur—lords it in high places and disposes of the counterf——"
"Stock."
"Stock, in regular loads. But he's as wary as a fox—nothing can approach him in cunning."
"The very man I want," exclaimed Lenoir. "This fellow could, with my aid, make a fortune for himself and me in less than a year—a large fortune."
"You are very sanguine," said Markby, with a smile.
"I am, but not over sanguine. I speak by the book, for I know well what I am talking of. You must introduce me."
"You are running on wildly," said Markby. "Did I not tell you that he did not know me—that he would not know me if he did? So careful is he that his own brother would fail to draw any thing from him concerning the way in which he gets his living."
"Dame!" muttered Lenoir, "he seems a precious difficult fellow to approach."