“Eh? I beg pardon; the business here is Harry’s.”
“Be fair, Vic,” said Harry, shortly; “the business appertains to both.”
“Does it really?” said Uncle Luke, with a mock display of interest.
“Yes, uncle,” said the nephew, uneasily, as he sat twiddling the gold locket attached to his chain, and his voice sounded husky: “it relates to both.”
“Really!” said Uncle Luke, with provoking solemnity, as he looked from one to the other. “Well, I was young myself once. Now, look here; can I make a shrewd guess at what you want?”
“I’ll be bound to say you could, sir,” said Pradelle, in despite of an angry look from Harry, who knew his uncle better, and foresaw a trap.
“Then I’ll guess,” said the old man, smiling pleasantly; “you want some money.”
“Yes, uncle, you’re right,” said Harry, as cautiously as a fencer preparing for a thrust from an expert handler of the foils.
“Hah; I thought I was. Well, young men always were so. Want a little money to spend, eh?”
“Well, uncle, I—”