something of that sort? Had he very large feet?"
"Yes, I think," said Jimmy reminiscently. "Yes, he was tall and spare, and he was nervous, distinctly, even violently you might say. Yes—he had large feet, very, and he said something about being a Philosopher or Philosophy. And at first he had his hands in his pockets—but afterwards you know, well"
"Well, look here," said Mr. Kirby thoughtfully, "it was Mr. Brassington as you say—tall and spare and very nervous, and on that Philosophy crank, which is King Charles's head to him, and in that Green Overcoat of his. Oh, it must have been him all right! But why didn't you go to his house and ask him for the cash? What 's all this business about Greystones?"
Jimmy kept silent. At last he said—
"That 's his business, Mr. Kirby, and he can tell you that end of the story."
"Well, look here," said Mr. Kirby, "I have really no right to get anything of this sort out of you."
"It 's the truth," said Jimmy.
"Yes, I know," said Mr. Kirby; "but you have to be starting for that night mail, and" (
