THE next day, Mr. Troy (taking Robert Moody with him as avaluable witness) rang the bell at the mean and dirtylodging-house in which Old Sharon received the clients who stoodin need of his advice.

They were led up stairs to a back room on the second floor of thehouse. Entering the room, they discovered through a thick cloudof tobacco smoke, a small, fat, bald-headed, dirty, old man, inan arm-chair, robed in a tattered flannel dressing-gown, with ashort pipe in his mouth, a pug-dog on his lap, and a French novelin his hands.

"Is it business?" asked Old Sharon, speaking in a hoarse,asthmatical voice, and fixing a pair of bright, shameless, blackeyes attentively on the two visitors.

"It _is_ business," Mr. Troy answered, looking at the old roguewho had disgraced an honorable profession, as he might havelooked at a reptile which had just risen rampant at his feet."What is your fee for a consultation?"

"You give me a guinea, and I'll give you half an hour." With thisreply Old Sharon held out his unwashed hand across the ricketyink-splashed table at which he was sitting.

Mr. Troy would not have touched him with the tips of his ownfingers for a thousand pounds. He laid the guinea on the table.

Old Sharon burst into a fierce laugh--a laugh strangelyaccompanied by a frowning contraction of his eyebrows, and afrightful exhibition of the whole inside of his mouth. "I'm notclean enough for you--eh?" he said, with an appearance of beingvery much amused. "There's a dirty old man described in this bookthat is a little like me." He held up his French novel. "Have youread it? A capital story--well put together. Ah, you haven't readit? You have got a pleasure to come. I say, do you mindtobacco-smoke? I think faster while I smoke--that's all."

Mr. Troy's respectable hand waved a silent permission to smoke,given under dignified protest.

"All right," said Old Sharon. "Now, get on."

He laid himself back in his chair, and puffed out his smoke, witheyes lazily half closed, like the eyes of the pug-dog on his lap.At that moment, indeed there was a curious resemblance betweenthe two. They both seemed to be preparing themselves, in the sameidle way, for the same comfortable nap.

Mr. Troy stated the circumstances under which the five hundredpound note had disappeared, in clear and consecutive narrative.When he had done, Old Sharon suddenly opened his eyes. Thepug-dog suddenly opened his eyes. Old Sharon looked hard at Mr.Troy. The pug looked hard at Mr. Troy. Old Sharon spoke. The puggrowled.

"I know who you are--you're a lawyer. Don't be alarmed! I neversaw you before; and I don't know your name. What I do know is alawyer's statement of facts when I hear it. Who's this?" OldSharon looked inquisitively at Moody as he put the question.

Mr. Troy introduced Moody as a competent witness, thoroughlyacquainted with the circumstances, and ready and willing toanswer any questions relating to them. Old Sharon waited alittle, smoking hard and thinking hard. "Now, then!" he burst outin his fiercely sudden way. "I'm going to get to the root of thematter."

He leaned forward with his elbows on the table, and began hisexamination of Moody. Heartily as Mr. Troy despised and dislikedthe old rogue, he listened with astonishment andadmiration--literally extorted from him by the marvelous abilitywith which the questions were adapted to the end in view. In aquarter of an hour Old Sharon had extracted from the witnesseverything, literally everything down to the smallest detail,that Moody could tell him. Having now, in his own phrase, "got tothe root of the matter," he relighted his pipe with a grunt ofsatisfaction, and laid himself back in his old armchair.

"Well?" said Mr. Troy. "Have you formed your opinion?"

"Yes; I've formed my opinion."

"What is it?"

Instead of replying, Old Sharon winked confidentially at Mr.Troy, and put a question on his side.

"I say! is a ten-pound note much of an object to you?"

"It depends on what the money is wanted for," answered Mr. Troy.

"Look here," said Old Sharon; "I give you an opinion for yourguinea; but, mind this, it's an opinion founded on hearsay--andyou know as a lawyer what that is worth. Venture your tenpounds--in plain English, pay me for my time and trouble in abaffling and difficult case--and I'll give you an opinion foundedon my own experience."

"Explain yourself a little more clearly," said Mr. Troy. "What doyou guarantee to tell us if we venture the ten pounds?"

"I guarantee to name the person, or the persons, on whom thesuspicion really rests. And if you employ me after that, Iguarantee (before you pay me a halfpenny more) to prove that I amright by laying my hand on the thief."

"Let us have the guinea opinion first," said Mr. Troy.

Old Sharon made another frightful exhibition of the whole insideof his mouth; his laugh was louder and fiercer than ever. "I likeyou!" he said to Mr. Troy, "you are so devilish fond of yourmoney. Lord! how rich you must be! Now listen. Here's the guineaopinion: Suspect, in this case, the very last person on whomsuspicion could possibly fall."

Moody, listening attentively, started, and changed color at thoselast words. Mr. Troy looked thoroughly disappointed and made noattempt to conceal it.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"All?" retorted the cynical vagabond. "You're a pretty lawyer!What more can I say, when I don't know for certain whether thewitness who has given me my information has misled me or not?Have I spoken to the girl and formed my own opinion? No! Have Ibeen introduced among the servants (as errand-boy, or to cleanthe boots and shoes, or what not), and have I formed my ownjudgement of _them?_ No! I take your opinions for granted, and Itell you how I should set to work myself if they were _my_opinions too--and that's a guinea's-worth, a devilish goodguinea's-worth to a rich man like you!"

Old Sharon's logic produced a certain effect on Mr. Troy, inspite of himself. It was smartly put from his point ofview--there was no denying that.

"Even if I consented to your proposal," he said, "I should objectto your annoying the young lady with impertinent questions, or toyour being introduced as a spy into a respectable house."

Old Sharon doubled his dirty fists and drummed with them on therickety table in a comical frenzy of impatience while Mr. Troywas speaking.

"What the devil do you know about my way of doing my business?"he burst out when the lawyer had done. "One of us two is talkinglike a born idiot--and (mind this) it isn't me. Look here! Youryoung lady goes out for a walk, and she meets with a dirty,shabby old beggar--I look like a shabby old beggar already, don'tI? Very good. This dirty old wretch whines and whimpers and tellsa long story, and gets sixpence out of the girl--and knows her bythat time, inside and out, as well as if he had made her--and,mark! hasn't asked her a single ques tion, and, instead ofannoying her, has made her happy in the performance of acharitable action. Stop a bit! I haven't done with you yet. Whoblacks your boots and shoes? Look here!" He pushed his pug-dogoff his lap, dived under the table, appeared again with an oldboot and a bottle of blackening, and set to work with tigerishactivity. "I'm going out for a walk, you know, and I may as wellmake myself smart." With that announcement, he began to sing overhis work--a song of sentiment, popular in England in the earlypart of the present century--"She's all my fancy painted her;she's lovely, she's divine; but her heart it is another's; and itnever can be mine! Too-ral-loo-ral-loo'. I like a love-song.Brush away! brush away! till I see my own pretty face in theblacking. Hey! Here's a nice, harmless, jolly old man! sings andjokes over his work, and makes the kitchen quite cheerful. What'sthat you say? He's a stranger, and don't talk to him too freely.You ought to be ashamed of yourself to speak in that way of apoor old fellow with one foot in the grave. Mrs. Cook will givehim a nice bit of dinner in the scullery; and John Footman willlook out an old coat for him. And when he's heard everything hewants to hear, and doesn't come back again the next day to hiswork--what do they think of it in the servants' hall? Do theysay, 'We've had a spy among us!' Yah! you know better than that,by this time. The cheerful old man has been run over in thestreet, or is down with the fever, or has turned up his toes inthe parish dead-house--that's what they say in the servants'hall. Try me in your own kitchen, and see if your servants takeme for a spy. Come, come, Mr. Lawyer! out with your ten pounds,and don't waste any more precious time about it!"

"I will consider and let you know," said Mr. Troy.

Old Sharon laughed more ferociously than ever, and hobbled roundthe table in a great hurry to the place at which Moody wassitting. He laid one hand on the steward's shoulder, and pointedderisively with the other to Mr. Troy.

"I say, Mr. Silent-man! Bet you five pounds I never hear of thatlawyer again!"

Silently attentive all through the interview (except when he wasanswering questions), Moody only replied in the fewest words. "Idon't bet," was all he said. He showed no resentment at Sharon'sfamiliarity, and he appeared to find no amusement in Sharon'sextraordinary talk. The old vagabond seemed actually to produce aserious impression on him! When Mr. Troy set the example ofrising to go, he still kept his seat, and looked at the lawyer asif he regretted leaving the atmosphere of tobacco smoke reekingin the dirty room.

"Have you anything to say before we go?" Mr. Troy asked.

Moody rose slowly and looked at Old Sharon. "Not just now, sir,"he replied, looking away again, after a moment's reflection.

Old Sharon interpreted Moody's look and Moody's reply from hisown peculiar point of view. He suddenly drew the steward awayinto a corner of the room.

"I say!" he began, in a whisper. "Upon your solemn word of honor,you know--are you as rich as the lawyer there?"

"Certainly not."

"Look here! It's half price to a poor man. If you feel likecoming back, on your own account--five pounds will do from _you_.There! there! Think of it!--think of it!"

"Now, then!" said Mr. Troy, waiting for his companion, with thedoor open in his hand. He looked back at Sharon when Moody joinedhim. The old vagabond was settled again in his armchair, with hisdog in his lap, his pipe in his mouth, and his French novel inhis hand; exhibiting exactly the picture of frowzy comfort whichhe had presented when his visitors first entered the room.

"Good-day," said Mr. Troy, with haughty condescension.

"Don't interrupt me!" rejoined Old Sharon, absorbed in his novel."You've had your guinea's worth. Lord! what a lovely book thisis! Don't interrupt me!"

"Impudent scoundrel!" said Mr. Troy, when he and Moody were inthe street again. "What could my friend mean by recommending him?Fancy his expecting me to trust him with ten pounds! I considereven the guinea completely thrown away."

"Begging your pardon, sir," said Moody, "I don't quite agree withyou there."

"What! you don't mean to tell me you understand that oracularsentence of his--'Suspect the very last person on whom suspicioncould possibly fall.' Rubbish!"

"I don't say I understand it, sir. I only say it has set methinking."

"Thinking of what? Do your suspicions point to the thief?"

"If you will please to excuse me, Mr. Troy, I should like to waita while before I answer that."

Mr. Troy suddenly stood still, and eyed his companion a littledistrustfully.

"Are you going to turn detective-policeman on your own account?"he asked.

"There's nothing I won't turn to, and try, to help Miss Isabel inthis matter," Moody answered, firmly. "I have saved a few hundredpounds in Lady Lydiard's service, and I am ready to spend everyfarthing of it, if I can only discover the thief."

Mr. Troy walked on again. "Miss Isabel seems to have a goodfriend in you," he said. He was (perhaps unconsciously) a littleoffended by the independent tone in which the steward spoke,after he had himself engaged to take the vindication of thegirl's innocence into his own hands.

"Miss Isabel has a devoted servant and slave in me!" Moodyanswered, with passionate enthusiasm.

"Very creditable; I haven't a word to say against it," Mr. Troyrejoined. "But don't forget that the young lady has other devotedfriends besides you. I am her devoted friend, for instance--Ihave promised to serve her, and I mean to keep my word. You willexcuse me for adding that my experience and discretion are quiteas likely to be useful to her as your enthusiasm. I know theworld well enough to be careful in trusting strangers. It will doyou no harm, Mr. Moody, to follow my example."

Moody accepted his reproof with becoming patience andresignation. "If you have anything to propose, sir, that will beof service to Miss Isabel," he said, "I shall be happy if I canassist you in the humblest capacity."

"And if not?" Mr. Troy inquired, conscious of having nothing topropose as he asked the question.

"In that case, sir, I must take my own course, and blame nobodybut myself if it leads me astray."

Mr. Troy said no more: he parted from Moody at the next turning.

Pursuing the subject privately in his own mind, he decided ontaking the earliest opportunity of visiting Isabel at her aunt'shouse, and on warning her, in her future intercourse with Moody,not to trust too much to the steward's discretion. "I haven't adoubt," thought the lawyer, "of what he means to do next. Theinfatuated fool is going back to Old Sharon!"