Slap!
Jerry gave himself a heavy pat on the mouth.
“Forgot,” he muttered. “Look here, sir—I mean Dick Smithson—has Mr Lacey got plenty of money?”
“I don’t know. He must be pretty well-off or he couldn’t live as he does.”
“Oh, I don’t see that. Lots o’ gentry lives in good style and no money per rannum, as we calls it, at all. But you think he is pretty well-off?”
“Yes; why are you talking like this?”
“Because he ought to be stopped, or somebody else ought.”
“I don’t understand you, Jerry. Speak out openly, please.”
“Oh, very well, then, I will, even if it costs me my place. You see, I’ve burnt my fingers, so that I know,” and these words came fast. “I can’t help seeing when anyone’s getting into the fire.”
“Do you mean, in plain English, Jerry, that Mr Lacey is betting and gambling?”