"Does she think you are in America?" asked Bernard, putting the letter into his pocket, and promising to use it should occasion offer. "Yes. She thinks a great deal of the West family," said Conniston, taking another glass of kümmel, "and she would howl if she heard I was a mere private. And I don't know but what she may not know. I saw that [pg 59] young brute of a Judas when I left you the other day, Bernard." [pg 59] "Judas?" echoed Durham, who was unlocking the spirit-stand. Conniston sat down and stretched out his legs. "He's Mrs. Moon's grandson. Jerry Moon is his name—but he's such a young scoundrel that I call him Judas as more appropriate. I got him a place with Taberley, the tobacconist, but he took money or something and was kicked out. The other day when I met him he was selling matches. I gave him half a sovereign to go back to his grandmother, so by this time I expect he's at Cove Castle telling her lies. I instructed him to hold his tongue about my soldiering." "Why didn't you send him to me?" said Mark. "I would have frightened him, and made him hold his tongue." "If you could frighten Judas you could frighten his father, the Old 'Un down below," said Conniston, laughing. "He's what the Artful Dodger would call a young Out-and-Outer; a kind of Jack Sheppard in grain. He'll come your way yet, Mark, passing by on his journey to the gallows. He's only thirteen, but a born criminal. He'll hold his tongue about me so long as it suits him, and sell me to make a sixpence. Oh, he's a delightful young scamp, I promise you!" All this aimless chatter made Bernard rather impatient. "I must cut along," he said; "it's rather foggy and it will take me a long time to fetch my barracks. No, thank you, Mark, I don't want anything to drink. Give me a couple of those cigarettes, Conniston. Good night." [pg 60] "Won't you stop the night?" said Durham, hospitably. "Conniston is staying." [pg 60] "He's on furlough and I'm not," said Bernard, who was now putting on his slouch hat in the hall. "Good night, Conniston. Good night, Durham." "You'll think over what I told you," said the lawyer, opening the door himself and looking outside. "I say, what a fog! Stop here, Bernard."
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