“Any thing in nature, that won’t give me an unreasonable deal of trouble.”
“Oh, this will give you no sort of trouble,” said Hopkins. “I will get you, before this day se’nnight, that place in the revenue that you have been wishing for so long, and that Sir Hyacinth O’Brien will never get for you. I say I will insure it to you under my hand, this minute, if you will do what I want of you.”
“To be sure I will, if it’s no trouble. What is it?”
“Only just,” said Hopkins, hesitating; “only just—You must remember—you cannot but recollect that you wrote to your landlord, to offer to renew?”
“I remember to recollect no such thing,” said Simon, surprised.
“Yes, yes,” said Hopkins; “but he gave you no answer, you know.”
“But, I tell you, I never wrote to him at all.”
“Pshaw! You have a bad memory, Simon; and your letter might have miscarried. There’s nothing simpler than that; nothing more easily said.”
“If it were but true,” said Simon.
“True or not, it may be said, you know.”