When spoken to on the subject, he would abruptly answer, "Dong it, mon, moind yer own bissness; think ye the swells wud hav' waited for my brass?"
The conversation between Mr. Moordown and Billy had continued but a short time, when the latter said (we omit the oaths, and put his hybrid language into English)—
"I cannot hear myself speak with this infernal clatter. Come upstairs to my sitting-room."
"Later on would suit me better. I have an appointment," replied Moordown, edging away.
"The wench, or whoever it is, must wait. It is high time we had an understanding. I have come to Wincastle on purpose to see you."
"It is now seven; I will come back at nine if it is important."
"This present moment, or not at all," was the polite answer of Platt. "If it was even the Duchess herself who was going to meet you, business must be attended to first."
"Lead the way then," said Moordown, evidently anything but pleased at his capture.