“Eh I what 's the matter?” whispered Bubbleton as he saw my color come and go, and perceived that I leaned on a chair for support. “What the devil 's wrong now?”
“You 've betrayed me to my greatest enemy,” said I, in a low, distinct voice.
“Eh! what? Why, you seem to have nothing but foes in the world. Confound it, that's always my luck; my infernal good-nature is everlastingly making a wrong plunge.”
“In that case, if I understand the matter aright, the bail is unnecessary,” said Mr. Cooke, addressing Basset, who never turned his head to the part of the room where we stood.
“No, sir; it is not necessary. While the law assists me to resume my guardianship of this young gentleman, I am answerable for his appearance.”
“The indentures are quite correct,” said Barton, as he laid the papers on the table, “as I believe Mr. Basset's statement to be also.”
“No bail necessary,” interrupted Bubbleton, rubbing his hands pleasantly; “so much the better. Wish them good evening, Tom, my hearty; we shall be back in time for supper. You wouldn't take an oyster, Mr. Cooke?”
“I thank you very much, but I am unfortunately engaged.”
“Not so fast, captain, I beg you,” said Basset, with a most servile but malignant expression in his features. “The habits I would inculcate to my apprentice are not exactly consistent with mess parties and barrack suppers.”
“Apprentice! apprentice!” said Bubbleton, starting as if stung by a wasp. “Eh! you 're surely not—not the—the—”