“Well, I am careful,” said Mr Burne; “and I’m looking after my pocket-book, watch, and purse; and if I were you I should do the same. He’s a rogue, I’m sure.”
“Nonsense!”
“’Tisnt nonsense, sir; you’re too ready to trust everybody. Did you hear his name?”
“I did,” said Lawrence smiling. “Xenos Stephanos.”
“Yes,” grumbled Mr Burne. “There’s a name. I don’t believe any man could be honest with a name like that.”
The professor showed his white teeth as he laughed heartily, and Mr Burne took snuff, pulled out a glaring yellow silk handkerchief, and blew a blast that was like the snort of a wild horse.
It was done so suddenly that a grave-looking Turkish gentlemen in front started and turned round.
“Well, what is it?” said Mr Burne fiercely. “Did you never see an Englishman take snuff before?”
The Turk bowed, smiled, and continued his way.
“Such rudeness. Savages!” snorted out Mr Burne. “Don’t believe they know what a pocket-handkerchief is.”