"Vy, much of one and not a little of the other!" said the euphonious confidant.
"How! speak plain, man—what do you mean?"
"Vy, I means, your Onor, that I can't say vhere he is."
"And this," said Brandon with a muttered oath,—"this is your boasted news, is it? Dog, damned, damned dog, if you trifle with me, or play me false, I will hang you,—by the living God, I will!"
The man shrank back involuntarily from Brandon's vindictive forehead and kindled eyes; but with the cunning peculiar to low vice answered, though in a humbler tone—
"And vot good vill that do your Onor? if so be as ow you scrags I, vill that put your Vorship in the vay of finding he?"
Never was there an obstacle in grammar through which a sturdy truth could not break; and Brandon, after a moody pause, said in a milder voice,—"I did not mean to frighten you! never mind what I said; but you can surely guess whereabouts he is, or what means of life he pursues,
