“Perfectly, and the writing is exquisite.”
“Dog-stealing cad safe, and he has got some one to write for him.”
“He’ll be here directly, if he keeps his appointment,” said Harry, referring to his watch; “it only wants a few minutes to eight. What shall you do? See Mr Fancy, or hand him over to the police?”
“See him, of course! What’s the good of handing him over to the police? Cost me just as much money, and I should not get my dog.”
Harry shrugged his shoulders, while Lionel lay back a little farther on his lounge, so that he could hold up and admire the set of his close, groomy-looking, drab trousers.
“Not a bad fit, are they, Hal?” he said, after a pause.
“Excellent for a stable-helper,” was the sarcastic reply.
“H’m! Perhaps so. But they are like the real thing, though, ain’t they? Bilstob’s an out-and-outer for taking up an idea, if you give it him.”
“Stably ideas, I suppose,” said Harry.
“Yes, if you like,” said Lionel, rather sulkily; and then the young men smoked on in silence, till, forgetting the sneers of his companion, Lionel again spoke.