the caustic editor rejoined. "Copy me out some extracts."
"To what end, if there's no question of their being of use to you?"
"I don't say that—I might like the letters themselves."
"Themselves?"
"Not as the basis of a paper, but just to publish—for a sensation."
"They'd sell your number!" Baron laughed.
"I daresay I should like to look at them," Mr. Locket conceded after a moment. "When should I find you at home?"
"Don't come," said the young man. "I make you no offer."
"I might make you one," the editor hinted.
"Don't trouble yourself; I shall probably destroy them." With this Peter Baron took his departure, waiting however just afterwards, in the street near the house, as if he had been looking out for a stray hansom, to which he would not have signalled had it appeared. He thought Mr. Locket might hurry after him, but Mr. Locket seemed to have other things to do, and Peter Baron returned on foot to Jersey Villas.
