“I say, Mr. Silent-man! Bet you five pounds I never hear of that lawyer again!”
Silently attentive all through the interview (except when he was answering questions), Moody only replied in the fewest words. “I don’t bet,” was all he said. He showed no resentment at Sharon’s familiarity, and he appeared to find no amusement in Sharon’s extraordinary talk. The old vagabond seemed actually to produce a serious impression on him! When Mr. Troy set the example of rising to go, he still kept his seat, and looked at the lawyer as if he regretted leaving the atmosphere of tobacco smoke reeking in the dirty room.
“Have you anything to say before we go?” Mr. Troy asked.
Moody rose slowly and looked at Old Sharon. “Not just now, sir,” he replied, looking away again, after a moment’s reflection.
Old Sharon interpreted Moody’s look and Moody’s reply from his own peculiar point of view. He suddenly drew the steward away into a corner of the room.
“I say!” he began, in a whisper. “Upon your solemn word of honor, you know—are you as rich as the lawyer there?”
“Certainly not.”
“Look here! It’s half price to a poor man. If you feel like coming back, on your own account—five pounds will do from you. There! there! Think of it!—think of it!”
“Now, then!” said Mr. Troy, waiting for his companion, with the door open in his hand. He looked back at Sharon when Moody joined him. The old vagabond was settled again in his armchair, with his dog in his lap, his pipe in his mouth, and his French novel in his hand; exhibiting exactly the picture of frowzy comfort which he had presented when his visitors first entered the room.
“Good-day,” said Mr. Troy, with haughty condescension.