“How do the letters come to you? Here?”
“Scott gets them from Mrs. Long’s. Johnny”—with a sharp pressure of the hand, and a beseeching look from his troubled blue eyes—“be a good fellow and don’t talk. Anywhere.”
Giving his hand a reassuring shake, and lifting my hat to the lady at the gate as I passed her, I went away, thinking of this complication and of that. In a minute, Scott overtook me.
“I think you knew where he was, all along,” I said to him; “that your ignorance was put on.”
“Of course it was,” answered Scott, as coolly as you please. “What would you? When a fellow-chum entrusts confidential matters to you and puts you upon your honour, you can’t betray him.”
“Oh, well, I suppose not. That damsel over there, Scott—is she his sister, or his cousin, or his aunt?”
“You can call her which you like,” replied Scott, affably. “Are you very busy this afternoon, Ludlow?”
“I am not busy at all.”
“Then I wish you would go to Pitt. I can’t spare the time. I’ve a heap of work on my shoulders to-day: it was only the pressing note I got from Bevere about his arm that brought me out of it. He is getting a bit doubtful himself, you see; and Pitt had better come to it without loss of time.”