"She sees no reason to fear. She believes I'm still over there, where she sent me."
"And the young fellow, my man, does he know anything?"
"Again how can I tell? But I should say not. How could she enlighten him?"
"Then he is--"
"Their son."
A pause succeeded. Meanwhile Jones had engaged in a sort of dumb-show with me to throw the men opposite off the scent, by passing papers and money backwards and forwards, and apparently making calculations with his pencil; in reality I saw he was taking notes. Presently De Vos spoke again.
"Well, let's drink to the heir, old boy; and so long as I can make him play the piper, why thin it's myself that will, and bedad to him."
His Irishisms, be it observed, were intermittent.
"Long life to the heir!" cried the two voices simultaneously; and there was a clash of glasses.
"What's the time of day by your ticker?" asked De Vos a few moments afterward.