Mr Bunker hesitated.
“I have a little clue,” he said at last, “only a thread, but I’ll try it for what it’s worth.”
“Haf you money enoff?”
“Thanks to your generosity and my skill at billiards, yes, which reminds me that I must return poor Trelawney’s [pg 177] ten pounds some day. At present, I can’t afford to be scrupulous. So, you see, I’m provided for.”
“Cigars at least, Bonker! You most smoke, my frient vizout a name!”
The Baron, night-shirted and barefooted as he was, dived into his portmanteau and produced a large box of cigars.
“You like zese, Bonker. Zey are your own choice. Smoke zem and zink of me!”
“A few, Baron, would be a pleasant reminiscence,” said his friend, with a smile, “if you really insist.”
“All, Bonker,—I vill not keep vun! I can get more. No, you most take zem all!”
Mr Bunker opened his bag and put in the box without a word.