Without gratifying his desire to know how I came there, I said, quietly, ‘How is your niece, Mr. Slinkton?’
He looked hard at me, and I looked hard at him.
‘I am sorry to say, Mr. Sampson, that my niece has proved treacherous and ungrateful to her best friend. She left me without a word of notice or explanation. She was misled, no doubt, by some designing rascal. Perhaps you may have heard of it.’
‘I did hear that she was misled by a designing rascal. In fact, I have proof of it.’
‘Are you sure of that?’ said he.
‘Quite.’
‘Boil the brandy,’ muttered Beckwith. ‘Company to breakfast, Julius Cæsar. Do your usual office,—provide the usual breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper. Boil the brandy!’
The eyes of Slinkton looked from him to me, and he said, after a moment’s consideration,
‘Mr. Sampson, you are a man of the world, and so am I. I will be plain with you.’
‘O no, you won’t,’ said I, shaking my head.