“‘You may find some small change on the chimney-piece—my last money.’
“‘The devil! This won’t do. We must fill your exchequer somehow. You must be taken care of, my boy.’
“‘Easy to say,’ I answered, ‘but how? Unless you win me a lottery prize, or show me a hidden treasure, my cash-box is likely to continue empty.’
“‘Pshaw! hidden treasure indeed! There are always treasures to be found by clever seekers. Nothing without trouble.’
“‘I should not grudge that.’
“‘Perhaps not; but you young gentlemen are apt to be squeamish. Nasty-particular, as I may say.’
“‘Pshaw!’ said I in my turn, ‘you know I can’t afford to be that. Money I must have, no matter how.’
“I spoke thoughtlessly, and without weighing my words, but also without evil meaning. I merely meant to express my willingness to work for my living, in ways whose adoption I should have scoffed at a fortnight previously. Darvel doubtless understood me differently—thought dissipation and reckless extravagance had blunted my sense of honour and honesty, and that I was ripe for his purpose. After a minute or two’s silence—
“‘By the bye,’ he said, ‘are not you intimate with the young D——s, sons of that rich old baronet Sir Marmaduke D——?’
“‘Barely acquainted,’ I replied, ‘I have seen them once or twice, but it is a long time back, and we should hardly speak if we met. They are poor silly fellows, brought up by a fool of a mother, and by a puritanical private tutor.’