"My interest in the viscountess is, of course, money," said Aarons, with an air of great frankness; "that is the only interest I have in any of these fine dames. They will gamble at cards, and run into debt; until they get desperate and fly to me with their jewels, to stave off their creditors until luck turns or some wealthy relative leaves them a fortune. Many of them owe me money, and it is my business to see that they do not cheat me out of it. Sometimes it is worth my while to pay well for a little information."
"Sometimes it may pay better to keep a secret than sell it," said Goodridge, with latent boastfulness.
"Unless you are clever enough to make one pay you for keeping it and another for selling it," suggested Aarons. "Not that I want you to sell me any secret of the Viscountess Brooke's. 'Tis easy for me to know all I want about her affairs. My interest is in her lover, Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert."
Goodridge laughed and held out his glass for replenishment.
"Sir Geoffrey, I fear, is not worthy of this lady," said Aarons, passing the bottle over to his guest. "She might make a much better match if she could be prevented from marrying him. It would suit me better to have her marry a rich man who could pay her debts, you understand, than one such as Sir Geoffrey, who is himself only kept out of prison by being in Parliament. Now, it is more than likely that such a gay gallant has many a little entanglement or intrigue or what not, that it would be useful for me to know about, and any one who could serve me by discovering some such irregularity would do a true kindness to the lady and help himself at the same time."
Goodridge laughed again, and emptying his glass, refilled it and held it with an unsteady hand between his bleary eye and the dim window. Aarons watched him with a wry smile, patient and sardonic, looking for the psychological moment when his lips would unclose under the influence of the repeated bumpers.
"Boy," he called to the attendant, "another bottle; shall it be the same, Parson?"
"This is fair, but they've a better one," replied Goodridge, smacking his lips.
"Bring us a bottle of the best you have," Aarons ordered, and when it came, he filled both glasses and proposed the health of the beautiful viscountess, and a rich husband for her.
Again Goodridge laughed, and this time with such rapturous glee that Aarons was quite confounded.