"Yes," said Tom.
"It seems to me you want to have him caught."
"Well, I did not think—I hope not—and I did not know you took any interest in him," said Sedley, quite innocently.
"Interest! I—me! Interest, indeed! Why the devil should I take an interest in Sir Booth Fanshawe? Why you seem to forget all the trouble and annoyance he has cost me. Interest, indeed! Quite the contrary. Only, I think, one would not like to get any poor devil into worse trouble than he's in, for no object, or to be supposed to be collecting information about him."
"No one could suppose anything like that of me," said Tom Sedley.
"I beg your pardon; they can suppose anything of anybody," answered Cleve, and, seeing that Tom looked offended, he added, "and the more absurd and impossible, the more likely. I wish you heard the things that have been said of me—enough to make your hair stand on end, by Jove!"
"Oh! I dare say."
They were now turning into the street where Cleve had taken lodgings.
"I could not stand those fellows any longer. My uncle has filled the house with them—varnish and paint and that stifling plaster—so I've put up here for a little time."
"I like these streets. I'm not very far away from you here," said Tom. "And talking of that affair at Caen, you know, he said, by Jove he did, that he saw you there."