“No, my lord.”
“Then what is it?”
Toft turned his hat in his hands. “I have information”—it was with difficulty he could control his voice—“which it is to your lordship’s interest to have.”
There was a pregnant pause. “Oh!” the young man said at last. “And you come—to sell it?”
Toft nodded, unable to speak. Yet he was getting on as well as could be expected.
“Rather an unusual position, isn’t it?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“The information should be unusual?”
“It is, my lord.”
Lord Audley smiled. “Well,” he answered, “I’ll say this, my man. If you are going to sell me a spavined horse, don’t! It will not be to your advantage. What’s it all about?”