Mr. Welwyn nodded, and Mr. Stillbottle read the paper aloud to the end. Then he slowly folded it up, and remarked, not altogether unreasonably, that he was damned. He added a respectful rider in the French tongue, to the effect that Mr. Welwyn was très moutarde.
"You understand," said his employer with great seriousness--he had crossed the Rubicon now, and was determined to risk nothing by imperfect rehearsal--"you must use your own discretion as to when you come in with your messages. About once every ten minutes, I should say."
"Don't you think, governor," suggested Mr. Stillbottle, almost timidly, "that that last stretcher--the one about the shover--is just a bit too thick? Suppose your guests start askin' to see the car--what, then? You'll be in the cart, you know!"
"It is all right," said Mr. Welwyn. "I am giving the car up, on account of recent taxation, and so on. It is in the market now, and may be sold at any moment--to-day, perhaps."
"I beg pardon," said Mr. Stillbottle humbly. "I see I can teach you nothing." Then he added, conversationally: "Did you ever know a Captain Slingsby, by any chance?"
"No. Who was he?"
"Another of the lads, like yourself. I thought perhaps you might have been workin' with him at some time. I came acrost him once or twice. He was a pretty tough nut. His line was to dress up as a curate and get himself adopted by rich widders; but he was n't the artist you are, sir. He 'ad n't your education, I should say. Are the whole family in this, may I enquire?"
"Er--yes," replied Mr. Welwyn helplessly.
"Ah!" Mr. Stillbottle nodded his head. "I thought somehow that I had come on a happy visit to the Nut Family as soon as I got acquainted with your two youngest. Well, it's a pleasure to work with people at the top of their profession, and I'll see you through."
Mr. Welwyn thanked him, almost inaudibly.