Fatigued and out of breath, Kinch arrived at the house of Mr. Walters, where he considered it best to go and communicate what he had learned.
Mr. Walters was at dinner when he received from the maid a summons to the parlour to see a lad, who said his business was a matter "of life or death." He was obliged to smile at the air of importance with which Kinch commenced the relation of what he had overheard—but the smile gave place to a look of anxiety and indignation long ere he had finished, and at the conclusion of the communication he was highly excited and alarmed.
"The infernal scoundrel!" exclaimed Mr. Walters. "Are you sure it was my house?"
"Yes, sure," was Kinch's reply. "You are the only coloured person living in the square—and he said plain enough for anybody to understand, 'Easton-street, corner of Shotwell.' I heard every word but what they said towards the last in a whisper."
"You couldn't catch anything of it?" asked Mr. Walters.
"No, I missed that; they talked too low for me to hear."
After reflecting a few moments, Mr. Walters said: "Not a word of this is to be lisped anywhere except with my permission, and by my direction. Have you had your dinner?"
"No, sir," was the prompt reply.
"I want to despatch a note to Mr. Ellis, by you, if it won't trouble you too much. Can you oblige me?"
"Oh, yes, sir, by all means," replied Kinch, "I'll go there with pleasure."