"And that very one, I dare say, picked your pocket. What was his name? who was he?"
"He is a gentleman, sir, who would not do such a thing, I'm sure, any sooner than you would. He is a friend of mine."
"What is his name, I say?"
"Clinton, sir. No one that you know, probably."
The merchant leaned forward, and peered keenly into Arthur's face, as if to see if there was aught of hidden meaning in his words; and his features grew ashy pale while he asked, in a hoarse whisper:—
"Clinton? Clinton what?"
"Mr. Clinton is the only name I know him by. I
haven't heard his given name," returned Arthur, surprised at the merchant's agitation.
Mr. Delancey said nothing for a moment; but sat leaning forward, with his pale face dropped in thought upon his breast.
"Did he talk with you long?" he asked, at last.