"Me!" said Verty.
"Yes, you; where are those costumes which I presented to you?"
"My clothes, sir—from the tailor's?"
"Yes, sir."
Verty shook his head.
"I did'nt feel easy in them, sir," he said; "you know I am an
Indian—or if I am not, at least I am a hunter. They cramped me."
Mr. Rushton looked at the young man for some moments in silence.
"You are a myth," he said, grimly smiling, "a dream—a chimera. You came from no source, and are going nowhere. But I trifle. If I am permitted, sir, I shall institute proper inquiries as to your origin, which has occasioned so much thought. The press of business I have labored under during the last month has not permitted me. Wretched life. I'm sick of it—and go to it like a horse to the traces."
"Don't you like law, sir?"
"No—I hate it."