"You seem to have done a bit of everything. But when? and why? You must tell me all about it."
"Some day mebbe. Ha' led a motley life for a man o' peace; so 'tis. 'Twould make old feyther o' mine drop all his old bones in a heap if so be as he knowed all my lines o' life. The time'll come to tell 'ee, sir, but 'tis not yet, no."
That was the end of Sherebiah's acrobatic performances. From that day he stuck to Harry more closely than ever; and the weekly bills increased. They had been in town now for nearly two months, and by dint of the greatest economy Sherebiah thought that the money might last for a fortnight longer. Then the wolf would be at the door. Harry had not told his man of Jan Grootz's offer, though he surmised, from a word Sherebiah let fall, that he knew of it. Hoping against hope, he waited and longed for some sign from the duke. Every day Sherebiah went to the Angel and Crown to see if a letter had come, and every day he came back disappointed. He had not given the host his new address, for reasons of his own; and when on one of his visits he learnt that a man had enquired for the present whereabouts of Mr. Harry Rochester, he hugged himself on his prudence. He would not have been so well pleased if he had known that on the very next day, when he returned from the Angel and Crown by a roundabout way to his inn in Leicester Fields, he was shadowed by a man who had waited for several hours for the opportunity. And he would undoubtedly have counselled a second change of abode if he had known that the spy, after assuring himself that Harry Rochester was a guest of the inn, had gone hotfoot to Captain Aglionby.
Another week went by. On Saturday night Sherebiah counted up the contents of his purse, and found that by the end of the next week he would have spent the uttermost farthing.
"I give it back to 'ee, sir," he said. "Come Monday morn, I go to find work."
"Not so fast, Sherry. We share alike; when you go to find work, I go too. The duke may send for me even at the eleventh hour."
"A plague on the duke! I wish I may never hear of dukes again to th' end o' my mortal days. A duke's a bubble, and that's the truth on't. Better be an honest man, as Mynheer Grootz says."
"'Tis mere forgetfulness, I am sure, Sherry. He has mislaid the paper, I suspect, and his mind being filled with weightier matters, has forgotten that even so insignificant a person as myself exists."
"'Tis my belief he never did a kindness to man, woman, or child in all his born days. Why, all the chairmen and hackney coachmen know un; ay, and madam his duchess too. My lady will haggle with an oyster-wench over a ha'penny, and the only thing my lord gives away for nowt is his smile. Hang dukes and duchesses, say I!"
"Well, Sherry, I can't gainsay you, because I don't know. We'll give him three days' grace, and then——"