“Your name is Chewkle, I believe,” said the solicitor, as Chewkle approached him.
“That is my name, and no other, sir,” he replied. “Hem! You were sent hither for a deed by Mr. Grahame—eh?” inquired the lawyer.
“A deed, sir—why, he said ’twas to be a paper packet,” returned Chewkle.
“Yes—yes. Do you know what the paper was about?”
“Me, sir?—no, sir.”
“Nor why Mr. Grahame is so anxious to have it?”
“Me, sir?—no, sir?”
“Um!—very odd—very remarkable, indeed.”
“Mr. Scathe must have got it, or put it somewhere,” suggested the clerk.
“I can furnish no other solution of the mystery,” answered the principal in the same tone. “But if that is the case, Mr. Scathe is very much to blame, and will not fail, to be made acquainted with my opinion to that effect.” Then raising his voice, he addressed Chewkle. “Be good enough to tell Mr. Grahame that I will send the deed up to him by one of my clerks.”