“My lord, you overpoar me with your faviors.”
“Go to the devil, sir,” says he: “do your duty, and hold your tongue.”
And thus I went from the service of the Honorabble Algernon Deuceace to that of his exlnsy the Right Honorabble Earl of Crabs.
. . . . . .
On going back to prisn, I found Deuceace locked up in that oajus place to which his igstravygansies had deservedly led him; and felt for him, I must say, a great deal of contemp. A raskle such as he—a swindler, who had robbed poar Dawkins of the means of igsistance; who had cheated his fellow-roag, Mr. Richard Blewitt, and who was making a musnary marridge with a disgusting creacher like Miss Griffin, didn merit any compashn on my purt; and I determined quite to keep secret the suckmstansies of my privit intervew with his exlnsy my presnt master.
I gev him Miss Griffinses trianglar, which he read with a satasfied air. Then, turning to me, says he: “You gave this to Miss Griffin alone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You gave her my message?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you are quite sure Lord Crabs was not there when you gave either the message or the note?”