“But not you, governor, not you,” he went on, stolidly shaking his head. “For what did I say to myself arter having amused myself with that there stretch of a comic idea, as a sort of a playful game? Why, I says to myself; ‘He’s a man o’ honour.’ That’s what I says to myself. ‘He’s a man o’ double honour.’ ”
Very remarkably, Riderhood put no question to him. He had looked at him on opening the door, and he now looked at him again (stealthily this time), and the result of his looking was, that he asked him no question.
“You’ll be for another forty on ’em, governor, as I judges, afore you turns your mind to breakfast,” said Riderhood, when his visitor sat down, resting his chin on his hand, with his eyes on the ground. And very remarkably again: Riderhood feigned to set the scanty furniture in order, while he spoke, to have a show of reason for not looking at him.
“Yes. I had better sleep, I think,” said Bradley, without changing his position.
“I myself should recommend it, governor,” assented Riderhood. “Might you be anyways dry?”
“Yes. I should like a drink,” said Bradley; but without appearing to attend much.
Mr. Riderhood got out his bottle, and fetched his jug-full of water, and administered a potation. Then, he shook the coverlet of his bed and spread it smooth, and Bradley stretched himself upon it in the clothes he wore. Mr. Riderhood poetically remarking that he would pick the bones of his night’s rest, in his wooden chair, sat in the window as before; but, as before, watched the sleeper narrowly until he was very sound asleep. Then, he rose and looked at him close, in the bright daylight, on every side, with great minuteness. He went out to his lock to sum up what he had seen.