He's incredible on Tonti.'
'By Jove!' cried Wickham, 'then you're one of these Finsbury tontine
fellows. I hadn't a guess of that.'
'Ah!' said the other, 'do you know that old boy in the carriage is worth
a hundred thousand pounds to me? There he was asleep, and nobody there
but you! But I spared him, because I'm a Conservative in politics.'
Mr Wickham, pleased to be in a luggage van, was flitting to and fro like
a gentlemanly butterfly.
'By Jingo!' he cried, 'here's something for you! "M. Finsbury, 16 John
Street, Bloomsbury, London." M. stands for Michael, you sly dog; you
keep two establishments, do you?'
'O, that's Morris,' responded Michael from the other end of the van,
where he had found a comfortable seat upon some sacks. 'He's a little
cousin of mine. I like him myself, because he's afraid of me. He's
one of the ornaments of Bloomsbury, and has a collection of some
kind--birds' eggs or something that's supposed to be curious. I bet it's
nothing to my clients!'
'What a lark it would be to play billy with the labels!' chuckled Mr
Wickham. 'By George, here's a tack-hammer! We might send all these
things skipping about the premises like what's-his-name!'
At this moment, the guard, surprised by the sound of voices, opened the
door of his little cabin.
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