“Don't draw any indignation on yourself on my account,” said Conway, smiling. “I'm quite unworthy of the confidence, and utterly unable to profit by it.”
“I 'm not so sure of that,” responded Beecher. “A fellow who has got it so hot as you have, has always his eyes open ever after. Come a little to this side,” whispered he, cautiously. “Did you remark my going forward two or three times when I came on board?”
“Yes, I perceived that you did so.”
“You never guessed why?”
“No; really I paid no particular attention to it.”
“I 'll tell you, then,” whispered he, still lower, “it was to look after a horse I 've got there. 'Mumps,' that ran such a capital second for the Yarmouth, and ran a dead heat afterwards with Stanley's 'Cross-Bones,' he's there!” and his voice trembled between pride and agitation.
“Indeed!” exclaimed Conway, amused at the eagerness of his manner.
“There he is, disguised as a prize bull for the King of Belgium. Nobody suspects him,—nobody could suspect him, he 's so well got up, horns and all. Got him on board in the dark in a large roomy box, clap posters to it on the other side, and 'tool' him along to Brussels. That's what I call business! Now, if you wait a week or two, you can lay on him as deep as you like. We'll let the Belgians 'in,' before we 've done with them. We run him under the name of 'Klepper;' don't forget it,—Klepper!”
“I've already told you I 'm unworthy of such a confidence; you only risk yourself when you impart a secret to indiscretion like mine.”
“You'd not blow us?” cried Annesley, in terror.