"He could not, indeed, my dear sir," replied Gammon, while Quirk continued gazing earnestly at him, now and then wriggling about in his chair, rubbing his chin, and drumming with his fingers on the table.—"And now that you've suggested the thing, [oh, Gammon! Gammon]—it's not to be wondered at!—You know, it would have been an old tombstone—a sort of fragment of a tombstone, perhaps—so deeply sunk in the ground, probably, as easily to have escaped observation. Eh?—Does not it strike you so, Mr. Quirk?" All this was said by Gammon in a musing manner, and in a very low tone of voice; and he was delighted to find his words sinking into the eager and fertile mind of his companion.
"Ah, Gammon!" exclaimed Quirk, with a sound of partly a sigh, and partly a whistle, (the former being the exponent of the true state of his feelings, i. e. anxiety—the latter of what he wished to appear the state of his feelings, i. e. indifference.)
"Yes, Mr. Quirk?"
"You're a deep devil, Gammon—I will say that for you!" replied Quirk, glancing towards each door, and, as it were, unconsciously drawing his chair a little closer to that of Gammon.
"Nay, my dear sir!" said Gammon, with a deferential and deprecating smile, "you give me credit for an acuteness I feel I do not possess! If, indeed, I had not had your sagacity to rely upon, ever since I have had the honor of being connected with you in business—— ah, Mr. Quirk, you know you lead—I follow"——
"Gammon, Gammon!" interrupted Quirk, with an uncomfortable, but still a mollified air, "Come—your name's Oily"——
"In moments like these, Mr. Quirk, I say nothing that I do not feel," interrupted Gammon, gravely, putting to his nose the least modicum of snuff which he could take with the tip of his finger out of the huge box of Mr. Quirk, who, just then, was thrusting immense pinches, every half minute, up his nostrils.
"It will cost a great deal of money to find that same tombstone, Gammon!" said Quirk, in almost a whisper, and paused, looking intently at Gammon.
"I think this is a different kind of snuff from that which you usually take, Mr. Quirk, isn't it?" inquired Gammon, as he inserted the tips of his fingers a second time into the mechanically proffered box of Mr. Quirk.
"The same—the same," replied Quirk, hastily.