“Dear Sir,—Learning this morning, accidentally, that you are about to leave town to-morrow, and wishing much to see you on a matter of some importance before you do so, shall I be putting you to any great inconvenience if I ask you to do me the favour of breakfasting with me to-morrow? Name your own hour, from six o’clock downwards. My boy is waiting, or more properly (you know his mendacious propensities) lying in wait for your answer. N.B.—I am aware of the utter vileness of that pun, but my ink is so confoundedly thick that really I could not make a better one.
“Yours faithfully,
“T. Bracy.”
CHAPTER XLIV.—LEWIS PRACTICALLY TESTS THE ASSERTION THAT VIRTUE IS ITS OWN REWARD, AND OBTAINS AN UNSATISFACTORY RESULT.
“This is kind of you, Mr. Arundel,” exclaimed Bracy, shaking him heartily by the hand, when, in reply to his friend’s invitation, Lewis made his appearance at his chambers by eight o’clock on the following morning; “I like a man who will come to you at a minute’s notice. Now, as I know your time’s short, we’ll go to work at once, and talk as we eat. Bring the eggs and rolls, Orphy.”
“Please, sir, they ain’t none of ’em come,” responded the individual thus addressed, who was no less a personage than the tiger “for falsehood famed.”
“I knew he’d say that,” observed Bracy aside, with a look of exultation, “I knew he’d say so, because I saw the man bring them five minutes ago; sharp boy! he never loses an opportunity of lying. Perhaps they may have arrived while you’ve been up here,” he continued blandly; “go and see, Orphy.”
“What do you call your tiger?” inquired Lewis as the imp disappeared.