“A charming young man, I am told,” said he, puffing out a long column of smoke.
“And without flattery, I repeat it,—a charming young man, good-looking, accomplished, high-spirited and brave.”
“You delight me, sir. What a misfortune for the poor fellow that his antecedents have not been more favorable; but you see, Mr.———”
“Cutbill is my name.”
“Mr. Cutbill, you see that I have not only had a great many irons in the fire through life, but occasionally it has happened to me that I took hold of them by the hot ends.”
“And burned your fingers?”
“And burned my fingers.”
They walked on some steps in silence, when Baldassare said,—
“Where, may I ask, did you last see my son?”
“I saw him last in Ireland, about four months ago. We travelled over together from England, and I visited a place called Castello, in his company,—the seat of the Bramleigh family.”