Holymead spoke to him, had seized
the opportunity to slip past him while he was talking to the eminent K.C.
The young man, even from the back view, seemed to be well-dressed.
"Hallo, Fred," exclaimed Mr. Kemp, as he reached within a yard or two of
his quarry.
"Hallo, Kincher," replied the young man, turning round. "I didn't notice
you. Were you up at the court?"
"Yes, I looked in," said Mr. Kemp. "There wasn't much doing, was there?"
"No," said Fred.
"He won't trouble us any more," pursued Mr. Kemp.
"No." The young man seemed to have a dread of helping along the
conversation, and therefore sought refuge in monosyllables.
Mr. Kemp coughed before he formed his question.
"Did you go up there that night?"
"No." The reply came instantaneously, but the young man followed it up
with a look of inquiry to ascertain if his denial was believed.
"A good thing as it happened," said Mr. Kemp.
"I had nothing to do with it," said Fred, earnestly.
"I never said you had," replied Mr. Kemp.
"Nothing whatever to do with it," continued the young man with emphasis.
"That's not my sort of game."
"I'm not saying anything, Fred," replied the elder man.
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