‘No great wit wanted, I reckon,’ retorted Hold roughly, ‘to make out that much. The very mermaid on my arm here, and the crown and the anchor,’ he continued, baring his brawny wrist so as to exhibit the blue tattoo marks which it bore, ‘would tell you that. But I’ve followed more trades than one; tried them all in turn, sir. How does that idle string of words that schoolboys say, come off the tongue? Ay, I have it—Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor. Why, I’ve been everything on the urchin’s roll-call except thief; I never was quite that—or gentleman, which is a cut above me.’
‘You have seen the world evidently,’ said Sir Sykes in a bland tone; ‘but you must remember, Mr Hold, that you have not as yet explained to me with sufficient clearness the nature of your business with me.’
‘Labour lost, if I did,’ rejoined Hold with a cynical smile. ‘A secret is best of course when it belongs to one only. Two may get some good out of it; but once it’s common property, the goose that laid the golden eggs is picked bare to the last bone. Do you see,’ he added, dropping his voice, ‘our good friends yonder, and do you suppose that such as they are not all ears, as it were, to snap up any odds and ends of our talk? He with the frying-pan is as knowing a hand as any in England—a begging-letter writer, as the newspaper paragraphs call it. And the others, well! the others are all on the lay more or less, to scratch up a living by their wits. It’s only the cream of the cadging profession that can afford to patronise the Rest. It’s quite a genteel hotel of its class, I assure you. But now you know why I don’t speak out. Better deal with me singly, than with all these blood-suckers, I should say. And so, as we understand each other, we need not enlighten others.’
‘Is there no more private place?’ the baronet began.
But Hold broke curtly in: ‘None, Sir Sykes, in a crib like this. Up-stairs, we’d double the risk of being overheard. Walls have ears, you know. Now here, where we can see into the garden from this open window at my elbow, we’re pretty safe.—Deputy!’ (this was addressed to the sharp boy in the ragged jacket) ‘two glasses of rum, d’ye hear?’
Sir Sykes had had time to think, and it was in a firm tone that he now spoke.
‘Now, Mr Hold,’ he said, ‘I am a man of the world, and as such will not affect indignation or astonishment in the fact that you wish to bargain with me, for your own advantage, as to certain painful events of my earlier life. Name your terms, but be moderate. The law, as you are aware, is not very indulgent towards those who extort money by means of threats or calumnies.’
Hold’s face, hitherto good-humoured, wore an ugly scowl. ‘Drop that style of argument, if you’re wise, baronet,’ he said resolutely. ‘Dick Hold is not often backward, when folks will fire shotted guns instead of harmless blank cartridge. Come, come, commodore; if you dared to indict me, you’d hardly be here. Try that game, if you choose. It only serves the turn of those who can come into court with clean hands. Yours mayhap would shew a stain or so.—Here is Deputy with the rum. Let us drink, sir, to our better acquaintance, and be friends.’
Sir Sykes, however, pushed back the glass which Hold proffered him. Sunk in his own estimation though he might be, he could not stoop to pledge a ruffian of the stamp of this one.