At last mephistopheles gave brutus a signal, and they rose to interrupt the potations of the newcomer, who was pouring down fire and hot water in rather a reckless way.
“We won't all go together,” said mephistopheles. “You two meet me at Jonathan's ken in an hour.”
As brutus and the newcomer walked along an idea came to brutus. “Here is a fellow that passes for a sharp. What if I sell him my pamphlets and get a laugh at his expense. Mate,” said he, “here is a flash book all sealed up. What will you give me for it?”
“Well! I don't much care for that sort of reading, old fellow.”
“But this is cheap. I got it a bargain. Come—a shilling won't hurt you for it. See there is more than one under the cover.”
Now the other had been drinking till he was in that state in which a good-natured fellow's mind if decomposed would be found to be all “Yes,” and “Dine with me to-morrow,” so he fell into the trap.
“I'll give it you, my boy,” said he. “Let us see it? There are more than one inside it. You're an honest fellow. Owe you a shilling.” And the sealed parcel went into his pocket. Then, seeing brutus look rather rueful at this way of doing business, he hiccoughed out, “Stop your bob out of the swag”—and chuckled.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
A SNOW-WHITE suburban villa standing alone with its satellites that occupied five times as much space as itself; coach-house, stable, offices, greenhouse clinging to it like dew to a lily, and hot-house farther in the rear. A wall of considerable height inclosed the whole. It booked as secure and peaceful as innocent in the fleeting light the young moon cast on it every time the passing clouds left her clear a moment. Yet at this calm thoughtful hour crime was waiting to invade this pretty little place.