Linton leaned back in his chair, and appeared to be taking counsel with himself, and at length, as if having formed his resolve, said,—
“Of course frankness with such a man is never a mistaken policy.” And with this muttered soliloquy again became silent.
CHAPTER VII. FORGERY
It was not “Flattery,” he sold, but “Hope.”
Bell.
We left Mr. Linton and Mr. Hammond seated opposite each other, the former lost in seeming reflection, the latter awaiting with eager expectancy for something which might explain the few strange words he had just listened to.
“May I venture on a bit of confidence, Mr. Hammond?” said Linton, clearing his brow as he spoke; “you'll never betray me?”
“Never—on my honor.”
“Never, willingly, I well know; but I mean, will you strictly keep what I shall tell you—for yourself alone—because, as I am the only depositary of the fact, it would be inevitable ruin to me if it got about?”
“I give you my solemn pledge—I promise.”