they do," drawled that theologian.
"Yes, they do; we see our way to that," concluded Goldshed.
Larkin sighed.
There was a short silence here. Mr. Larkin opened his pink eyelids, and showing his small, light blue eyes, while he maintained his easy and gentlemanlike attitude.
The senior member of the firm looked down on his desk, thoughtfully, and picked at an old drop of sealing wax with his office knife, and whistled a few slow bars, and Mr. Levi, looking down also, scribbled the cipher of the firm thirteen times, with flourishes, on a piece of paper.
Mr. Goldshed worked his short thick knees and his heels a little uneasily; the office chair was growing a little bit frisky, it seemed.
"Nishe shailing, Mr. Larkin, and oh, dear! a great lot of delicashy! What do you think?" said Mr. Goldshed, lifting up the office knife, with the edge toward the attorney, and letting it fall back two or three times, between his finger and thumb, dubiously. "The parties being swells, makesh it more delicate – ticklish – ticklish; do you shinsherely think it's all quite straight?"
"Of course, it's straight. I should hope, Mr. Goldshed, I have never advised any course that was not so," said Mr. Larkin, loftily.
"I don't mean religious – law blesh you – I mean safe," said Mr. Goldshed, soothingly.
A light pink flush touched the bald forehead of the attorney.
"Whatever is right, sir, is safe; and that, I think, can hardly be wrong – I hope not – by which all parties are benefited," said the attorney.
"All parties be diddled – except our shelves. I'm thinking of my shelf – and Mr. Levi, here – and, of courshe, of you. Very much of you," he added, courteously.
Mr. Larkin acknowledged his care by a faint meek bow.
"They're swells," repeated Mr. Goldshed.
"He saysh they're swelsh," repeated Mr. Levi, whose grave look had something of the air of a bully in it, fixing his dark prominent eyes on Mr. Larkin, and turning his cheek that way a little, also. "There's a danger in handling a swell – in them matters specially."
"Suppose theresh a contempt?" said Mr. Goldshed, whose chair grew restive, and required management as he spoke.
"He saysh a contempt," repeated Mr. Levi, "or shomething worse," and he heightened the emphasis with an oath.
"I'll guarantee you for twopence, Mr. Levi; and pray consider me, and do not swear," urged Mr. Larkin.
"If you guarantee us, with a penalty," began Mr. Levi, who chose to take him literally.
"I said that, of course, Mr. Levi, by way of illustration, only; no one, of course, dreams of guaranteeing another without a proper consideration. I should have hoped you could not have misunderstood me. I don't understand guarantees, it is a business I have never touched. I'm content, I hope, with the emoluments of my profession, and what my landed property gives me. I only mean this – that there is no risk. What do we know of Mr. Dingwell, that is not perfectly above board – perfectly? I challenge the world upon that. If anything should happen to fall through, we, surely, are not to blame. At the same time if you – looking at it with your experience – apprehend any risk, of course, I couldn't think of allowing you to go on. I can arrange, this evening, and not very far from this house, either."
As Mr. Larkin concluded, he made a feint of rising.
"Ba-ah!" exclaimed Levi. "You don't think we want to back out of thish transhaction, Mr. Larkin? no-o-oh! That's not the trick of thish offishe – is it, gov'nor? He saysh no."
"No," echoed Goldshed.
"No, never – noways! you hear him?" reiterated Mr. Levi. "In for a penny, in for a pound – in for a shilling, in for a thousand. Ba-ah! – No, never."
"No, noways – never!" reverberated Goldshed, in deep, metallic tones. "But, Levi, there, must look an inch or two before his noshe – and sho must I – and sho, my very good friend, Mr. Larkin, must you– a bit before your noshe. I don't see no great danger. We all know, the Honourable Arthur Verney is dead. We are sure of that– and all the rest is not worth the odd ha'pensh in that book," and he touched the mighty ledger lying by him, in which millions were entered. "The rest is Dingwell's affair."
"Just so, Mr. Goldshed," acquiesced Mr. Larkin. "We go together in that view."
"Dingwell be blowed! – what need we care for Dingwell?" tolled out Mr. Goldshed, with his ringing bass.
"Ba-ah! – drat him!" echoed the junior.
"Yes – a – quite as you say – but where's the good of imprecation? With that exception, I quite go with you. It's Dingwell's affair – not ours. We, of course, go straight – and I certainly have no reason to suspect Dingwell of anything crooked or unworthy."
"Oh, no – ba-ah! —nothing!" said Levi.
"Nor I," added Goldshed.
"It'sh delicate – it izh delicate – but very promishing," said Mr. Goldshed, who was moistening a cigar in his great lips. "Very – and no-thing crooked about it."
"No-thing crooked —no!" repeated Mr. Levi, shaking his glossy curls slowly. "But very delicate."
"Then, gentlemen, it's understood – I'm at liberty to assume – that Mr. Dingwell finds one or other of you here whenever he calls after dark, and you'll arrange at once about the little payments."
To which the firm having promptly assented, Mr. Larkin took his leave, and, being a client of consideration, was accompanied to the shabby doorstep by Mr. Levi, who, standing at the hall-door, with his hands in his pockets, nodded slily to him across the flagged court-yard, into the cab window, in a way which Mr. Jos. Larkin of the Lodge thought by many degrees too familiar.
"Well —there's a cove!" said Mr. Levi, laughing lazily, and showing his long rows of ivory fangs, as he pointed over his shoulder, with the point of his thumb, towards the street.
"Rum un!" said Mr. Goldshed, laughing likewise, as he held his lighted cigar between his fingers.
And they laughed together tranquilly for a little, till, with a sudden access of gravity, Mr. Goldshed observed, with a little wag of his head —
"He's da-a-am clever!"
"Ay – yes – da-a-am clever!" echoed Levi.
"Not as much green as you'd put your finger on – I tell you – no muff – devilish good lay, as you shall see," continued Goldshed.
"Devilish good – no, no muff – nothing green," repeated Mr. Levi, lighting his cigar. "Good head for speculation – might be a bit too clever, I'm thinking," and he winked gently at his governor.
"Believe you, my son, if we'd let him – but we won't – will we?" drawled Mr. Goldshed, jocosely.
"Not if I knows it," said Mr. Levi, sitting on the table, with his feet on the stool, and smoking towards the wall.
CHAPTER VI
