“Talks, does he, of murder, eh?” said Gellow. “Yes, Mr Trevithick, they do at times. Never had DT, I suppose?”
“No, sir; I never had.”
“Good job for you. I had once, and that was enough for me. I didn’t swear off, but I swore a little way on. I’ve had ’em, sir. Snakes in your boots—blue-devils, things crawling all over you; it’s enough to make you shiver to think of it.”
“I suppose so.”
“You won’t believe me, but I couldn’t keep him away from the stuff.”
“Then he has been in the habit of drinking a great deal?”
“Great deal isn’t half big enough, sir.”
“Then don’t you think it would have been your duty to warn Miss Gartram of the character of the man she was about to wed?”
“Split on my friend; get up an action for slander; set the young lady against me; and perhaps have poor old Glyddyr knock me on the head. No, sir: I’m not that sort of man. There, good evening. If you want me, I shall be at the hotel. I seem to be the poor chap’s only friend, and I can’t go back to town till I see him safe.”
“I don’t like that man,” said Trevithick. “He has some hold on Glyddyr, I am sure.”