"It is!" said I.
"Come, think it over," said the Postilion persuasively, "think it over, now!"
"Let me fully understand you then," said I; "you propose to pay me one hundred guineas on behalf of your master, known heretofore as Number One, for such information as shall enable him to discover the whereabouts of a certain person known as Her, Number Two—is that how the matter stands?"
"Ah! that's 'ow it stands," nodded the Postilion, "the money to be yours as soon as ever 'e lays 'ands on 'er—is it a go?"
"No!"
"No?"
"No!"
"W'y, you must be stark, starin' mad—that you must—unless you're sweet on 'er yourself—"
"You talk like a fool!" said I angrily.
"So you are sweet on 'er then?"