“Isn’t it a good one—the mugs stand the racket, and the downy cards profit by it?”
“But there is no novelty in this; it is only blackmail after all.”
“I never said it wasn’t; but it is blackmailing perfected into a system.”
As Toto made this reply he hammered on the table, calling for more drink.
“But,” remarked Polyte, with an air of disappointment, “you don’t get chances every day, and the business is often a precious poor one. You can’t always be seeing chaps prigging boots.”
“Pooh! pooh!” answered Toto, “if you want to make money in this business, you must keep your eyes about you. Our customers don’t come to you, but there is nothing to prevent you going to them. You can hunt until you find them.”
“And where are you to hunt, if you please?”
“Ah, that’s tellings.”
A long silence ensued, during which Tantaine was half tempted to come forward. By doing so he would assuredly nip all explanations in the bud; but, on the other hand, he wanted to hear all the young rascal had to say. He therefore only moved a little nearer, and listened more intently.
Forgetting his curls, Toto was abstractedly passing his fingers through his hair, and reflecting with all the wisdom of a muddled brain. Finally, he came to the conclusion that he might speak, and, leaning forward, he whispered,—