"Where are the keys?" he asked.

"Always in his pocket or on the table before him. He don't leave them
about."

"Or you'd ha' known pretty sharp all there is to know--eh, my lad?
Well, you're a foxy one, you are, if ever there was one. Let's be
pals, you and me. When the old man goes, you want the shop--well, I
don't see why you shouldn't have the shop. Somebody must have the
shop; and it will be mine to do what I please with. As for his
savings, he says they are all for Iris--well, wills have been set
aside before this. Do you think now, seriously, do you think, James
that the old man is quite right--eh? Don't answer in a hurry. Do you
think, now, that he is quite right in his chump?"

James laughed.

"He's right enough, though he throws away his chances."

"Throws away his chances. How the deuce can he be all right then? Did
you ever hear of a bookseller in his right mind throwing away his
chances?"

"Why--no--for that matter--"

"Very well, then; for that matter, don't forget that you've seen him
throw away all his chances--all his chances, you said. You are ready
to swear to that. Most important evidence, that, James." James had not
said "all," but he grunted, and the other man went on: "It may come in