"But," he added, "as to who he really is, or of what family, no one can get out of him.

He's close and cunning." "Is he occasionally unsettled in his reason ?" asked the baronet, with assumed indifference.
"No doubt of it, Sir Thomas; he'll sometimes pass a whole week or fortnight and never open his lips." The baronet appeared to be divided between two states of feeling so equally balanced as to leave him almost without the power of utterance.
He walked, he paused, he looked at Crackenfudge as if he would speak, then resumed his step with a hasty and rapid stride that betokened the depth of what he felt.
"Well, Crackenfudge," he said, "your intelligence, after all, is but mere smoke.

I thought the fellow in the inn was something beyond the rank of clerk to a tooth-brush maker; he is not worth our talk, neither is that madman Fenton.

In the mean time, I am much obliged to you, and you may calculate upon my services wherever they can be made available to your interests.

I would not now hurry you away nor request you to curtail your visit, were it not that I expect Lord Cullamore here in about half an hour, or perhaps less, and I wish to see Miss Gourlay previous to his arrival." "But you won't forget the magistracy, Sir Thomas?
A'm dreaming of it every night.