“Quite another line—In a word, a thousand’s offered—get the thing done, and we divide!”
Mr. Brown started. Two things occasioned this disturbance of constitutional self-possession; the first was the largeness of the consideration, and the second, an intimation that the business was in “a new line.”
“Who are the parties, and what’s the business?” was the inquiry.
“Of the one I know nothing; of the other, particulars are contained in this sealed paper. The party who communicates with me, forbade it to be opened until the thing was put in train.”
“Well, how the devil,” said Mr. Brown, “can I enter on a business that I know nothing of?”
“I only know generally,” returned Mr. Sloman, “what it is.”
“Go on,” said Mr. Brown impatiently.
“There is a person in the way—he must be removed;” said Mr. Sloman in a whisper.
“Murdered, of course,” observed the host.
“Upon my soul, Mr. Brown, I am quite surprised at the unprofessional nature of your remark. Do you see any thing particularly green about me, to lead you to suppose that I would make myself accessory before fact? I neither know the man, nor will know anything of the man; or what is to become of him, or what will become of him. I got this sealed note, and that there flimsy as retaining fee,” and he held up a sealed packet, and a bank note for a hundred pounds, both of which Mr. Brown took and examined most attentively.