"Beautiful morning, Moore. How do, my boy? Ha! whom have we here?" (turning to the personage with the staff). "Sugden! What! you're going to work directly? On my word, you lose no time. But I come to ask explanations. Your message was delivered to me. Are you sure you are on the right scent? How do you mean to set about the business? Have you got a warrant?"
"Sugden has."
"Then you are going to seek him now? I'll accompany you."
"You will be spared that trouble, sir; he is coming to seek me. I'm just now sitting in state waiting his arrival."
"And who is it? One of my parishioners?"
Joe Scott had entered unobserved. He now stood, a most sinister phantom, half his person being dyed of the deepest tint of indigo, leaning on the desk. His master's answer to the rector's question was a smile. Joe took the word. Putting on a quiet but pawky look, he said,—
"It's a friend of yours, Mr. Helstone, a gentleman you often speak of."
"Indeed! His name, Joe? You look well this morning."
"Only the Rev. Moses Barraclough; t' tub orator you call him sometimes, I think."
"Ah!" said the rector, taking out his snuff-box, and administering to himself a very long pinch—"ah! couldn't have supposed it. Why, the pious man never was a workman of yours, Moore. He's a tailor by trade."