"He will attend to the appointment," was the answer.
"He will?" exclaimed the Resurrection Man, as if the news were almost too good to be true: "you are sure?"
"As sure as I am that I've got this here glass in my mawley," said the Buffer.
"To-morrow night?"
"To-morrow night he'll meet his brother at Twig Folly," answered the Buffer, with a laugh.
"Tell me all that took place," cried the Resurrection Man; "and then I shall be able to judge for myself."
"As you told me," began the Buffer, "I made myself particklerly clean and tidy, and went up to Holloway this morning at about eleven o'clock. I knocked at the door of the swell's crib; and an old butler-like looking feller, with a port-wine face, and a white napkin under his arm, come and opened it. He asked me what my business was. I said I wanted to speak to Mr. Markham in private. He asked me to walk in; and he showed me into a library kind of a place, where I see a good-looking young feller sitting reading. He was very pale, and seemed as if he'd been ill."
"Fretting about that business at the theatre, no doubt," observed the Resurrection Man.
"What business?" cried the Buffer.
"No matter—go on."