The mention of this name brought an expression of great uneasiness into Jimmy’s sharp countenance. “I don’t know him! Never heard of any such cove!”
“Oh yes, I think you have!” said Sir Richard.
“I ain’t done you any harm, guv’nor, nor intended any! I’ll cap downright—”
“You needn’t: I believe you.”
Jimmy’s spirits began to lift. “Dang me if I didn’t say you was a leery cove! You wouldn’t be hard on a cull!”
“That depends on the—er—cull. Which brings me, Mr Yarde, to the third course I might—I say, might, Mr Yarde—pursue. I can let you go.”
Jimmy gasped, swallowed, and muttered hoarsely: “Spoke like the gentry-cove you are, guv’nor!”
“Tell me what I want to know, and I will let you go,” said Sir Richard.
A wary look came into Jimmy’s eyes. “Spilt, eh? Lord bless you, there ain’t anything to tell you!”
“It will perhaps make it easier for you if I inform you that I am already aware that you have been working in—somewhat uneasy partnership—with Mr Horace Trimble.”