"You shall hear my business when I am within."
The gypsy began to cough, and the paroxysm was so violent that he had to hold on to the door-post.
"Well, sir," said Job, at length, somewhat sobered by a fit of coughing; "come in. I ain't the one to keep a Romany Rye out of my tent."
Mr. Cass entered, and followed the man into the sitting-room in which Jenner had been murdered by--so far as Mr. Cass knew--its present occupant. As he entered he became conscious of a strong smell of petroleum, and, making a sudden pause, "Have you upset your lamp?" he asked.
"No, I ain't upset anything," said Job, sulkily. "The smell, is it? Oh, that's my business. I've got an idea that ain't nothing to do with you. Sit down and tell me what's the row. I know, though. It's your young lady. Well, I haven't done her no harm; she's a sister to me, because she patters the black lingo. Has she been setting your back up, Rye?"
"My visit has nothing to do with Miss Cass," said her father, sharply. "Leave her name out of the question. I know all about her visit to you and how you behaved. I am not blaming you. But my business here has to do with a very serious matter. Perhaps you can guess my errand when I tell you that I come from Mrs. Marshall."
The mere mention of that name drove the remaining fumes of drink from the gypsy's head, and he cast a sharp glance at his visitor. Mr. Cass sustained this scrutiny with the greatest calmness, and, finding the smell of the petroleum quite unbearable, threw open the window and placed his chair close beside it so that he could breathe freely. Then he turned round and looked again at the man. Job, open-mouthed at these liberties taken with his domestic arrangements, stared insolently at Mr. Cass; but at length he found his tongue. "You'll give me my death," he grumbled. "I want that window shut."
"You shall not have it shut, then," said Mr. Cass, coolly. "The air here is horrible with the smell of that petroleum, whatever you are doing with it. Sit down over there, and you will be out of the draught. I have something serious to say to you."
"So you said before," growled Job, surrendering the point of the window and pitching himself on to a broken-backed chair. "What's she up to now?"
"If you are speaking of Mrs. Marshall, be more respectful," Mr. Cass said, angrily. "However you may have intimidated her, you ruffian, you cannot deal with me in the same way. I'll make an example of you!"