"I was a trifle too deep for you, Titmouse, eh?" said he, good-humoredly. "How could you suppose me green enough to bring you the real documents?" he added with perfect command of voice and feature.
"Where are they?" inquired Titmouse, timidly.
"At a banker's, in a double-iron strong box, with three different locks."
"Lord!—But, in course, you'll put them into the fire when I've performed my agreement, eh?"
Gammon looked at him for a moment, doubtful what answer to make to this unexpected question.
"My dear Titmouse," said he at length, "I will be candid—I must preserve them—but no human eye shall ever see them except my own."
"My stars!—Excuse me"—stammered Titmouse, uneasily.
"Never fear my honor, Titmouse! Have you ever had reason to do so?"
"No—never! It's quite true! And why don't you trust me?"
"Have you forgotten!—Did I not trust you—as you supposed"—quickly subjoined Gammon, positively on the point of again committing himself—"and when you fancied you really had in your power the precious original documents?"