“Snodgrass,” said Mr. Winkle, when they had turned out of the public street. “Snodgrass, my dear fellow, can I rely upon your secrecy?” As he said this, he most devoutly and earnestly hoped he could not.

“You can,” replied Mr. Snodgrass. “Hear me swear⁠—”

“No, no,” interrupted Winkle, terrified at the idea of his companion’s unconsciously pledging himself not to give information; “don’t swear, don’t swear; it’s quite unnecessary.”

Mr. Snodgrass dropped the hand which he had, in the spirit of poesy, raised towards the clouds as he made the above appeal, and assumed an attitude of attention.