'
And he gazed at Smith.
Smith stood near the door, cap in hand. He did not resemble a
burglar, who surely ought to be big, muscular, and masterful. He
resembled an undersized clerk who has been out of work for a long
time, but who has nevertheless found the means to eat and drink
rather plenteously. He was clothed in a very shabby navy-blue
suit, frayed at the wrists and ankles, and greasy in front. His
linen collar was brown with dirt, his fingers were dirty, his hair
was unkempt and long, and a young and lusty black beard was
sprouting on his chin. His boots were not at all pleasant.
'Yes, governor,' Smith replied, lightly, with a Manchester accent.
'And what's YOUR game?'
Sir Jee was taken aback. He, the chairman of the borough Bench,
and the leading philanthropist in the country, to be so spoken to!
But what could he do? He himself had legally established Smith's
innocence. Smith was as free as air, and had a perfect right to
adopt any tone he chose to any man he chose. And Sir Jee desired a
service from William Smith.
'I was hoping I might be of use to you,' said Sir Jehoshaphat
diplomatically.
'Well,' said Smith, 'that's all right, that is. But none of your
philanthropic dodges, you know. I don't want to lead a new life,
and I don't want to turn over a new leaf, and I don't want a
helpin' hand, nor none o' those things.
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