“And yours, Mr. Routley,” responded Cripps. “Whatever station of life may be yours, sir, I am convinced that it is a station you adorn. Bamberton should be proud of you, Mr. Routley.”
Harry shrugged his shoulders, and laughed a little bitterly. “At the present time,” he said—“neither Bamberton nor any other place is particularly proud of me, I think. And I have no distinct position in life.”
“That’s a pity—a great pity,” said Cripps gravely, shaking his head. “If a man has no position, the devil is likely to find him one. My young friend—I am sorry for you.”
“You needn’t be,” replied Harry, savagely. “It’s my own fault—and my own business, if it comes to that. I deserve everything I get. I sold the best man and the best master ever a lad had—and I don’t care what becomes of me.”
“Sold a man!” exclaimed Cripps. “I don’t understand you.”
“Don’t suppose you do,” replied Harry, recklessly. “Maybe, not belonging to these parts, you haven’t heard of Mr. Dandy Chater—eh?”
The unfortunate Cripps, with a gasp, dropped his glass to the floor, and fled. But, before he had managed to wrench open the door, Harry had laid a strong hand on his shoulder, and was hauling him back again.
“Let me go—let me go!” cried Cripps wildly. “I won’t be pestered with that devilish name any more. Let me go! I’ve found him in the river; he’s got the diamond necklace; he’s got the bank-notes; he’s frightened the Count and myself out of our senses; and I can’t have a quiet drink with a stranger, without hearing of him again. Let me go!”
“Stop a bit,” said Harry quickly, with his carelessness and reckless demeanour gone—“stop a bit! What do you know of Dandy Chater?”
“A great deal too much,” said the Doctor, shaking his head, and looking all about him. “What do you know about him?”