The boy laughed. "Mortimer bet? That's rich. We call him 'Old
Solemnity' in the bank; but he doesn't mean any harm by it--he just
can't help it, that's all. If he had a stiff ruff about his neck, you
could pose him for a picture of one of those old Dutch burgomasters."

"He's doing your work, and you're making fun of him, boy."

"You can't make fun of him, at him, or with him; he's a grave digger;
but you can trust him."

"That's better."

"If I'd killed a man and needed a friend to help me out, I'd go straight
to Mortimer; he's got that kind of eyes. Do you know why he's doing my
work to-day?"

"Because you're away, I suppose."

"Because you recited that doggerel about The Run of Crusader."

"Alan! I've never spoken to Mr. Mortimer."

"That's why he choked the butcher the night of the concert--I mean--"

"You're talking nonsense, Alan."

"I'm not, I know when a man's interested. Hello. Blest if the Boss
isn't coming this way--there's Crane. See, Allis? I've a notion to
tell him that his trainer is a crook."