“No more than you are,” was the answer.
The Jew broke in with a coarse contradiction, and swore lustily that I was regularly defunct.
“Well, all I can say,” continued the being of legs and arms, “that for a dead gentleman he spoke as plain as I do. He was a little groggy when he got up, but in a few minutes he walked away as steadily as I can.”
“Damnation! Speak low—but all is overheard—and the reward is lost, I fear,” muttered Mr. Brown.
“The worst of it is,” continued the hunchback, “that my name is on the knife, and Bill has dropped his jemmy.”
“Ay, and the least clue will send the Bow-street villains after us immediately.”
“I won’t remain another moment,” exclaimed Mr. Sloman, hurrying from the closet, and catching up his hat.
“Stop, my dear friend; all may be yet put right. Frank, bring these gentlemen to the parlour. They will require a bit of bread and cheese after their exercise; and when I have spoken a few words to Mr. Sloman”——
“That an’t my name!” exclaimed the alarmed lawyer, as the scoundrels left the room. “Damn it, Mr. Brown,” he continued, “how can you be so stupid? I thought I was dealing with a safe man of business. What the devil do ye call men by their right names for?”
“It was an oversight,” returned the host. “Don’t mind, Slovey—all’s safe here—and we’ll do the job better the next time we get an opportunity. Do we touch upon account to-night?”