“No—no.”
“Yes—yes, I say.”
“Some drunken brawl of your own!”
“No. Do you know, I suspect that fellow Hartleton is poking and prying about as usual, curse him.”
“Aye, Hartleton!” cried Learmont. “There is my great danger. He suspects and watches—Britton, he might die suddenly.”
“He might.”
“Well, well.”
“And he will too, if I catch him.”
“Good, Britton. A thousand pounds for news that he is up more.”
“What’s the use of your thousand pounds to me? I can but lead the life of a gentleman, and that I am. Why, somebody would cut my throat, if I had a thousand shillings all at once. Good day to you, squire, good day—take care of yourself. Leave me alone if I once catch Master Hartleton at bay.”