“Milor, you think I know about that tair-rible affaire?” cried Justine very Frenchly.
“Yes, and so you did.”
“Faith of a woman, sir; it is not ter-r-rue,” cried Justine, excitedly.
“Gammon! Come, Justine, the game’s up, and I know you were at the bottom of it all.”
“Non—non—non—non—non—non,” cried Justine, shaking her head quite dangerously.
“Oui—oui—oui—oui—oui,” said Tom. “Now come, confess.”
“And you go tell her ladyship, you bad, weeked lil man.”
“Not I. I’m only too glad things have turned out so right.”
“You deed not like Sir Viltaire?”
“Like him!”