"Aha!" said he, eyeing me dubiously and scratching his long, blue chin
with the spout of his kettle. "A young gent in a jerry 'at--lost an'
wandering far from a luxurious 'ome in a wood at midnight! And
wherefore? It ain't murder, is it? You aren't been doing to death any
pore, con-fiding young fe-male, have ye?"

"Good God--no!" I answered in indignant horror.

"Why then, you don't 'appen to ha' been robbing your rich uncle and
now on your way to London wi' the family jew-ells to make your
fortun', having set fire to the fam-ly mansion to cover the traces o'
your dark an' desp'ret doin's?"

"Certainly not!"

"Ha!" said he, with rueful shake of his head, "I knew it--from the
first. I suppose you'll tell me you ain't even forged your
'oary-'eaded grandfather's name for to pay off your gambling debts and
other gentlemanly dissipations--come now?"

"No," said I, a little haughtily, "I am not the rogue and scoundrel
you seem determined to take me for."

"True!" he sighed. "And what's more, you ain't even got the look of
it. Life's full o' disapp'intments to a romantic soul like me and not
half so inter-esting as a good nov-el. Now if you'd only 'appened to
be a murderer reeking wi' crime an' blood--but you ain't, you tell
me?" he questioned, his keen eyes twinkling more brightly than ever.