great city; a marvel o' th' ages. There be those, ecod! that
say London's but a kennel to't."

"Be there so?" quoth Mr. Caryll indifferently.

"Ye don't agree with them, belike?" asked Mr. Green, with
eagerness.

"Pooh! Men will say anything," Mr. Caryll replied, and added
pointedly: "Men will talk, ye see."

"Not always," was the retort in a sly tone. "I've known men
to be prodigious short when they had aught to hide."

"Have ye so? Ye seem to have had a wide experience." And Mr.
Caryll sauntered out, humming a French air through closed
lips.

Mr. Green looked after him with hardened eyes. He turned to
the drawer who stood by. "He's mighty close," said he.
"Mighty close!"

"Ye're not perhaps quite the company he cares for," the drawer
suggested candidly.

Mr. Green looked at him. "Very like," he snapped. "How long
does he stay here?"

"Ye lost a rare chance of finding out when ye let him go
without inquiring," said the drawer.