“In a month,” said the client, after attentively watching the two faces. “This day month. To-day is Thursday. Succeed or fail, on this day month I go.”
“It’s too long a delay,” said Snitchey; “much too long. But let it be so. I thought he’d have stipulated for three,” he murmured to himself. “Are you going? Good night, Sir.”
“Good night!” returned the client, shaking hands with the Firm. “You’ll live to see me making a good use of riches yet. Henceforth, the star of my destiny is, Marion!”
“Take care of the stairs, Sir,” replied Snitchey; “for she don’t shine there. Good night!”
“Good night!”
So they both stood at the stair-head with a pair of office-candles, watching him down; and when he had gone away, stood looking at each other.
“What do you think of all this, Mr. Craggs?” said Snitchey.
Mr. Craggs shook his head.
“It was our opinion, on the day when that release was executed, that there was something curious in the parting of that pair, I recollect,” said Snitchey.
“It was,” said Mr. Craggs.