“Who knows if I shall not be on the road to-morrow?” said the youth, smiling faintly.
“Oh, I think not, if there's really nothing against you; if it's only mere suspicion.”
“Just so!” said the other, and drank off his wine.
“And you are able to make a good thing of it here,—by copying, I mean?” asked his Lordship, languidly.
“I can live,” said the youth; “and as I labor very little and idle a great deal, that is saying enough, perhaps.”
“I 'm not sure the police are not right about him, after all, Baynton,” said his Lordship; “he doesn't seem to care much about his trade;” and Massy was unable to repress a smile at the remark.
“You don't understand English, do you?” asked Selby, with a degree of eagerness very unusual to him.
“Yes, I am English by birth,” was the answer.
“English! and how came you to call yourself a Neapolitan? What was the object of that?”
“I wished to excite less notice and less observation here, and, if possible, to escape the jealousy with which Englishmen are regarded by the authorities; for this I obtained a passport at Naples.”