"Look here," said Jennison, buttoning his light overcoat and polishing his hat with his arm, "I—I don't know how I shall get through with this business in Boston that I am going (with these excellent gentlemen) to transact. You will probably know as soon as I do. Mr. Clagg, my lawyer, will follow me to assist me. By the bye, I am glad to infer that you have met my old friends, the Probascos, of Chantico Island. My regards to them, please, when you see them next; and any thing else you may think it best to say to them. And," he continued, buttoning his gloves nervously, "I wish you and your friend, Mr. Marcy, and Mr. Saxton and his son to understand that, no matter what may be my circumstances in the future, it is the last time they or you will ever—have any trouble with me. I promise you that. I say—would you—will you shake hands? You're a plucky fellow, Touchtone. I'd a little rather not think of you as going through life with a grudge against me. Haven't I wiped it out? Live and let live, eh?"
The strange request made Philip blush. He hesitated, stammered, was half inclined to take the outstretched gloved hand. But no—
