“What?” said I.
“Be still,” he cried, “hear me, I know the old duke here, and—”
“Who? not the Duke of Wellington,” said I, wondering whether Harry was really going to include him too, in his long list of confidential friends and acquaintances.
“Pooh!” cried Harry, “I mean the white-whiskered old man you saw below; they call him the Duke:—he keeps the house. I say, I know him well, and he knows me; and he knows what brings me here, also. Well; we have arranged every thing about you; you are to stay in this room, and sleep here tonight, and—and—” continued he, speaking low—“you must guard this letter—” slipping a sealed one into my hand—“and, if I am not back by morning, you must post right on to Bury, and leave the letter there;—here, take this paper—it’s all set down here in black and white—where you are to go, and what you are to do. And after that’s done—mind, this is all in case I don’t return—then you may do what you please: stay here in London awhile, or go back to Liverpool. And here’s enough to pay all your expenses.”
All this was a thunder stroke. I thought Harry was crazy. I held the purse in my motionless hand, and stared at him, till the tears almost started from my eyes.
“What’s the matter, Redburn?” he cried, with a wild sort of laugh—“you are not afraid of me, are you?—No, no! I believe in you, my boy, or you would not hold that purse in your hand; no, nor that letter.”
“What in heaven’s name do you mean?” at last I exclaimed, “you don’t really intend to desert me in this strange place, do you, Harry?” and I snatched him by the hand.
“Pooh, pooh,” he cried, “let me go. I tell you, it’s all right: do as I say: that’s all. Promise me now, will you? Swear it!—no, no,” he added, vehemently, as I conjured him to tell me more—“no, I won’t: I have nothing more to tell you—not a word. Will you swear?”
“But one sentence more for your own sake, Harry: hear me!”
“Not a syllable! Will you swear?—you will not? then here, give me that purse:—there—there—take that—and that—and that;—that will pay your fare back to Liverpool; good-by to you: you are not my friend,” and he wheeled round his back.