Very calm, faithful, and yet
astute, he expressed his new-born hopes darkly.
"Something's sure to turn up to give us a hint; only this job can't be
rushed. You may depend on me to pick up the least little bit of a hint;
but you, sir--you've got to play him very gently. For the rest you can
trust me."
"Yes; but I ask myself what YOU are trusting to."
"Our luck," said the faithful Ricardo. "Don't say a word against that.
It might spoil the run of it."
"You are a superstitious beggar. No, I won't say anything against it."
"That's right, sir. Don't you even think lightly of it. Luck's not to be
played with."
"Yes, luck's a delicate thing," assented Mr. Jones in a dreamy whisper.
A short silence ensued, which Ricardo ended in a discreet and tentative
voice.
"Talking of luck, I suppose he could be made to take a hand with
you, sir--two-handed picket or ekkarty, you being seedy and keeping
indoors--just to pass the time. For all we know, he may be one of them
hot ones once they start--"
"Is it likely?" came coldly from the principal. "Considering what we
know of his history--say with his partner."
"True, sir. He's a cold-blooded beast; a cold-blooded, inhuman--"
"And I'll tell you another thing that isn't likely. He would not be
likely to let himself be stripped bare. We haven't to do with a young
fool that can be led on by chaff or flattery, and in the end simply
overawed.
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