"The case was rather a singular one; and being alone, she needed the counsel of some person of experience, and of extensive knowledge. She sent for me, and I came," added Mr. Wittleworth, rubbing his chin and pouting his lips, as was his habit when his bump of self-esteem was rubbed; though it was a notable fact that he always rubbed it himself—nobody else ever appeared to do so.
"It was kind of you to come when I sent for you," said Maggie, willing to give him all the credit she could.
"I came; I saw—" but he did not conquer. "I saw the papers, and I undertook to manage the business for Miss Maggimore. I was willing to give her the full benefit of my knowledge and experience, though my doing so came very near involving me in a painful difficulty."
"I am very sorry for that," interposed Maggie.
"It was all on account of my own excessive expenditure of good-nature. I wished to do you a good turn, and Checkynshaw a good turn. So far as Checkynshaw was concerned, it was a mistake; I am willing to confess that it was a blunder on my part. I confided in his honor. I might have known better, for Checkynshaw is a cur—Checkynshaw is."
Mr. Wittleworth slipped lightly over the "painful difficulty" in which he was so nearly involved. He was willing to give Maggie the benefit of his knowledge and experience in negotiating the strictly business matter in relation to the reward; but Checkynshaw basely calumniated him, and bit the hand that was extended to serve him.
"Mr. Checkynshaw came here, with the constable, and inquired into all the circumstances attending the finding of the papers," said Maggie, tired of Mr. Wittleworth's tedious exordium. "He was entirely satisfied with what we had done."
Maggie then explained the manner in which the papers had come into Leo's chest; that they were concealed there by "Pilky Wayne."
"Mr. Checkynshaw was very good and very kind," she added, with enthusiasm.
"Checkynshaw?" exclaimed Fitz, incredulously.