“Say nothink of the sort,” retorted Riderhood, shaking his head as he smoked. “You’ve got away once, and I won’t run the chance agin. I’ve had trouble enough to find you, and shouldn’t have found you, if I hadn’t seen you slipping along the street overnight, and watched you till you was safe housed. I’ll have one settlement with you for good and all.”
“Riderhood, I am a man who has lived a retired life. I have no resources beyond myself. I have absolutely no friends.”
“That’s a lie,” said Riderhood. “You’ve got one friend as I knows of; one as is good for a Savings-Bank book, or I’m a blue monkey!”
Bradley’s face darkened, and his hand slowly closed on the purse and drew it back, as he sat listening for what the other should go on to say.
“I went into the wrong shop, fust, last Thursday,” said Riderhood. “Found myself among the young ladies, by George! Over the young ladies, I see a Missis. That Missis is sweet enough upon you, Master, to sell herself up, slap, to get you out of trouble. Make her do it then.”
Bradley stared at him so very suddenly that Riderhood, not quite knowing how to take it, affected to be occupied with the encircling smoke from his pipe; fanning it away with his hand, and blowing it off.
“You spoke to the mistress, did you?” inquired Bradley, with that former composure of voice and feature that seemed inconsistent, and with averted eyes.
“Poof! Yes,” said Riderhood, withdrawing his attention from the smoke. “I spoke to her. I didn’t say much to her. She was put in a fluster by my dropping in among the young ladies (I never did set up for a lady’s man), and she took me into her parlour to hope as there was nothink wrong. I tells her, ‘O no, nothink wrong. The master’s my wery good friend.’ But I see how the land laid, and that she was comfortable off.”