“Money?” repeated the draper, as if his host had mentioned something he never dreamt of. “Oh no!”
Ramin saw it would not do to broach the subject he had really come about, too abruptly, now that suspicion seemed so wide awake—the opportunity had not arrived.
“There is something up, Ramin, I know; I see it in the twinkle of your eye; but you can’t deceive me again.”
“Deceive you?” said the jolly schemer, shaking his head reverentially. “Deceive a man of your penetration and depth? Impossible! The bare supposition is flattery. My dear friend,” he continued, soothingly, “I did not dream of such a thing. The fact is, Bonelle, though they call me a jovial, careless, rattling dog, I have a conscience; and, somehow, I have never felt quite easy about the way in which I became your successor downstairs. It was rather sharp practice, I admit.”
Bonelle seemed to relent.
“Now for it,” said the Opportunity-hunter to himself—“By-the-by,” (speaking aloud,) “this house must be a great trouble to you in your present weak state? Two of your lodgers have lately gone away without paying—a great nuisance, especially to an invalid.”
“I tell you I’m as sound as a colt.”
“At all events, the whole concern must be a great bother to you. If I were you, I would sell the house.”
“And if I were you,” returned the landlord, dryly, “I would buy it—”
“Precisely,” interrupted the tenant, eagerly.