“I hope to do good work with them, my dear Surry—and I think they are just in time.”
With which words Mohun put the paper in his pocket.
“You know the latest intelligence?” he said.
“Yes; but do not let us talk of it. Tell me something about yourself—but first listen to a little narrative from me.”
And I described the visit which I had made with Tom Herbert to the house near Buckland; the scene between Darke and his companion; and, to keep back nothing, repeated the substance of their conversation.
Mohun knit his brows; then burst into a laugh.
“Well!” he said, “so those two amiable characters are still bent on making mince-meat of me, are they? Did you ever hear any thing like it? They are perfect tigers, thirsting for blood!”
“Nothing more nor less,” I said; “the whole thing is like a romance.”
“Is it not?”
“A perfect labyrinth.”