” “I promise,” he answered heartily. ’ ‘What is all this about your proof?’ demanded Roding, diverted. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. But, on the bursting of that bubble, his hopes vanished with it. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. Evidently her foresight has saved me a funeral. “Bring any new songs you may have. With your permission, I will go on in my own way. The dress of the dwarfish Jew was not, however, favourable to this expedient.
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