"No, it isn't, old chap," said George. "I promised the missis I'd come back with you from the Free Library, so, of course, I must. Besides," he added gravely, "I shall have to tell her you were not there."
Busby laughed hilariously. "You are a funny devil!" he said. "Well, good night."
He turned away, and George followed him closely. They went on in this way for twenty yards, when Busby turned, and said in low, fierce tones.
"You're following me. Now, I give you warning, Early. I've had enough of your nonsense lately. Take my tip and clear off while you're safe. You'll get none of our supper."
George folded his arms, and assumed a theatrical posture.
"Albert Busby," he said firmly, "it can't be done. I don't want your supper. I'm coming with you, Albert Busby, to see that—you—tell—the—truth."
Busby collapsed, and had to support himself against a lamp-post.
"What do you mean?" he asked faintly.
"I know all," said George, in sepulchral tones.
"All? All what?"