"It's altogether out of the question, my good fellow," he said. "You must have been dreaming to think of it. Now, will you let me pass? I have a great deal to do."
Lumley stepped aside.
"I wish you humbly good-bye, sir, and good luck. There's riches in your face, sir; I see 'em as plain as can be. You'll think of me when the good times come."
Gray turned a quivering face upon him.
"What do you mean?" he gasped, and then he stopped and gave an unsteady smile. "I'll certainly think of you when my riches come, my man. It's an easy promise to make."
He waved his hand in hurried farewell and hastened along the path. Lumley stood looking after him with an evil glance.
"You will think of me, my fine gentleman, and no mistake."
And he chuckled harshly to himself.