“Oh! in the Beautiful Palace we were reading about,” said Reginald. “Who have you done for this time?”
“That there Medlock,” said the boy.
“Medlock! What are you talking about?” said Reginald, in blank amazement.
“Oh, I’ve give him a wonner,” said the boy, beaming. “He says to me, ‘Collar all the letters your gov’nor writes ’ome,’ he says, ‘and I’ll give you a tanner for every one you shows me.’”
“Love, you’re talking rubbish!” said Reginald indignantly.
“Are I? don’t you make no mistake,” said the boy confidently; “I knows what he says; and that there letter you wrote home last night and leaves on the table, ‘That’s a tanner to me,’ says I to myself when I sees it this morning. ‘A lie,’ says I, recollecting of that chap in the story-book. So I lets it be; and my eye, ain’t that a topper for somebody—oh no!”
Reginald stared at the boy, half stupefied. The room whirled round him; and with a sudden rush the hopes of his life seemed to go from under him. It was not for some time that he could find words to say, hoarsely,—
“Love, is this the truth, or a lie you are telling me?”
“Lie—don’t you make no error, gov’nor—I ain’t on that lay, I can tell you. I’m goin’ right into that there pallis, and there’s two on ’em topped a’ready.”
“You mean to say Mr Medlock told you to steal my letters and give them to him?”