"Who said I had turned spy?" asked Sir Maxwell angrily. "Please yourself!" and he went down the street, and turned into the jeweller's shop as if by accident just as Griselda had laid her trinkets on the counter and the master of the shop was examining them.
Sir Maxwell retired to the further end of the shop and asked to see some snuff-boxes, where he was presently joined by his friend. Sir Maxwell threw himself into one of his easy attitudes, and, while pretending to listen to the shopman, who had displayed a variety of little pocket snuff-boxes in dainty leather cases, he was taking in the fact that Griselda was selling her necklace and gold ornaments.
As soon as the transaction was over, Sir Maxwell made a sign to his companion, and, leaving all the snuff-boxes, he loftily waved away the master of the shop, who was advancing to inquire which he would prefer, and left in time to see which way Griselda went.
"To Crown Alley—a low place! By Jove! this is a queer notion. And with that jackanapes, too, who sets up for being so pious! We won't follow them further," he said, taking out an elaborately-chased snuff-box and offering it to his friend. "We won't follow them—this is enough."
"You are that fair lady's devoted slave, so report says. What are you about, Danby, to let another get before you? It is not like you!"
"No, it is not like me; you are right, sir. But I am not beaten out of the field yet. Crown Alley, forsooth! haunted by the scum of the theatre! Ah! ha! We must unearth this rat from its hole, and I am the man to do it!"
"You are well fitted for the business, I must say," was the rejoinder, with a laugh.