“That’s tellings,” answered Chewkle, putting his tongue in his cheek; “what are you here about, eh?” he inquired, somewhat impudently.
“Insolent scoundrel, how dare you put such a question to me?” exclaimed the Colonel, angrily.
“Oh!” returned Chewkle quickly, “I only returned the compliment. Look here, mister, I am old on the town and have forgotten more than a great many people will ever know, but I know this, that you are up to some dodge here”——
“Fellow!”
“Ah, yes! that’s very good acting, but it ain’t natural enough to satisfy me that I am wrong. Now I don’t mind dropping to you that I am down here on a spec, and, if it comes off right, it will be the making of me. So you see we had better try and help each other, than kick up a row, and bring about our ears a swarm of people we don’t want to see.”
There was something in what Chewkle said, as well as in his manner, which attracted the attention of Colonel Mires. He saw before him a fitting instrument for the commission of any act of rascality, and he came promptly to the conclusion that it would be better to enlist his services than to make an enemy of him. He, therefore, determined to fence with his questions for a short time before he came to an open understanding with him; and directly he proceeded to do this, Chewkle felt satisfied and at his ease. He parried the Colonel’s questions with the greatest ease, and artfully contrived to extract an admission from him which caused him to say——
“So you’ve come after young Miss Wilton, have you? You found another before you, eh? and you want to get hold of her on the sly, don’t you?”
The Colonel eyed him curiously, somewhat staggered at the observation, and said, quickly—
“You know the fellow Vivian, I suppose?”
“Vivian,” thought Chewkle, “Vivian—Wilton, Wilton—Vivian.” He rubbed his chin; presently he said—