er are, you tell
me, at the Play?" added Mr. Swiveller, leaning his left arm heavily upon
the table, and raising his voice and his right leg after the manner of a
theatrical bandit.

The Marchioness nodded.

"Ha!" said Mr. Swiveller, with a portentous frown. "'Tis well.
Marchioness!--but no matter. Some wine there, ho! Marchioness,
your health."

The small servant, who was not so well acquainted with theatrical
conventionalities as Mr. Swiveller, was rather alarmed by his manner,
and showed it so plainly that he felt it necessary to discharge his
brigand bearing for one more suitable to private life.

"I suppose," said Dick, "that they consult together a good deal, and
talk about a great many people--about me, for instance, sometimes, eh,
Marchioness?"

The Marchioness nodded amazingly.

"Complimentary?" asked Mr. Swiveller.

The Marchioness shook her head violently.

"H'm!" Dick muttered. "Would it be any breach of confidence,
Marchioness, to relate what they say of the humble individual who has
now the honor to--?"

"Miss Sally says you are a funny chap," replied his friend.

"Well, Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, "that's not uncomplimentary.
Merriment, Marchioness, is not a bad of a degrading quality. Old King
Cole was himself a merry old soul, if we may put any faith in the pages
of history."

"But she says," pursued his companion, "that you aren't to be trusted."

"Why, really, Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller thoughtfully, "it's a
popular prejudice, and yet I'm sure I don't know why, for I've been
trusted in my time to a considerable amount, and I can safely say that I
never forsook my trust, until it deserted me--never. Mr. Brass is of the
same opinion, I suppose?"

His friend nodded again, adding imploringly, "But don't you ever tell
upon me, or I shall be beat to death."

"Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, rising, "the word of a gentleman is
as good as his bond--sometimes better, as in the present case, where his
bond might prove but a doubtful sort of security. I'm your friend, and I
hope we shall play many more rubbers together. But, Marchioness," added
Richard, "it occurs to me that you must be in the constant habit of
airing your eye at keyholes to know this."

"I only wanted," replied the trembling Marchioness, "to know where the
key of the meat-safe was hid--that was all; and I wouldn't have taken
much if I had found it--only enough to squench my hunger."

"You didn't find it, then