“... but in the case of her own brother returning from Ballarat ...” continued Pitman.
“... with his mind unhinged,” put in the lawyer.
“... returning from Ballarat with a large fortune, her impatience may be more easily imagined than described,” concluded Pitman.
“All right,” said Michael, “be it so. And what do you propose to do?”
“I am going to Waterloo,” said Pitman, “in disguise.”
“All by your little self?” inquired the lawyer. “Well, I hope you think it safe. Mind and send me word from the police cells.”
“O, Mr. Finsbury, I had ventured to hope—perhaps you might be induced to—to make one of us,” faltered Pitman.
“Disguise myself on Sunday?” cried Michael. “How little you understand my principles!”
“Mr. Finsbury, I have no means of showing you my gratitude; but let me ask you one question,” said Pitman. “If I were a very rich client, would you not take the risk?”
“Diamond, Diamond, you know not what you do!” cried Michael. “Why, man, do you suppose I make a practice of cutting about London with my clients in disguise? Do you suppose money would induce me to touch this business with a stick? I give you my word of honour, it would not. But I own I have a real curiosity to see how you conduct this interview—that tempts me; it tempts me, Pitman, more than gold—it should be exquisitely rich.” And suddenly Michael laughed. “Well, Pitman,” said he, “have all the truck ready in the studio. I’ll go.”