“Now, sir,” I began, “though by a chance you are my mental and spiritual adviser, I intend speaking plain. For I know you to be one of the greatest rogues in the colony.”
I watched him narrowly the while, for I had some notion he might run me through. But I had misjudged him.
“Speak plain, by all means,” he replied; “but first let me ask for some tobacco.”
He filled the bowl of his pipe, and sat him down by the window. For the moment I was silent with sheer surprise.
“You know I can't call you out,” he went on, surrounding himself with clouds of smoke, “a lad of eighteen or so. And even if I could, I doubt whether I should. I like you, Richard,” said he. “You are straight-spoken and commanding. In brief, sir, you are the kind of lad I should have been had not fate pushed me into a corner, and made me squirm for life's luxuries. I hate squirming as much as another. This is prime tobacco, Richard.”
He had come near disarming me; I was on the edge of a dangerous admiration for this man of the world, and for the life of me, I could not help liking him then. He had a fine presence, was undeniably handsome, and his riding clothes were of the latest London cut.
“Are there not better methods for obtaining what you wish than those you practise?” I asked curiously.
“No doubt,” he answered carelessly; “but these are well enough, and shorter. You were about to do me the honour of a communication?”
This brought me to my senses. I had, however, lost much of my heat in the interval.
“I should like to know why you lied to Mr. Carvel about my convictions, Mr. Allen,” I said. “I am not of the King's party now, and never shall be. And you know this better than another.”