"No. I never did."
"There was a chap—but I suppose he was a liar—said you used to sing under an electric light at the Canterbury, with a character dance, and a topical song, and a kick up at the finish."
"Yes, professor. I think that 'chap' must certainly be written down a liar. But go on."
"I told him he was, and he offered to fight me for half a crown. When I said I'd do it, and willingly, for a bob, he went away. I think he's the fellow Harry Goslett knocked down one night. Bunker put him up to it. Bunker doesn't like you. Never mind him. Look here, now."
"I am looking as hard as I can."
"There's some things that bring the money in, and some that don't. Dressmaking don't; conjurin' does."
"Yet you yourself, professor—"
"Why," he asked, "because I am only four-and-twenty, and not much known as yet. Give me time; wait. Lord! to see the clumsy things done by the men who've got a name. And how they go down; and a child would spot the dodge! Now, mark my words—if you go in with me, there's a fortune in it."
"For your sake, I am glad to hear it; but it must be without me."