I asked if he was Mr. Charles Stewart the Writer.
"The same," says he; "and, if the question is equally fair, who may you be yourself?"
"You never heard tell of my name nor of me either," said I, "but I bring you a token from a friend that you know well. That you know well," I repeated, lowering my voice, "but maybe are not just so keen to hear from at this present being. And the bits of business that I have to propone to you are rather in the nature of being confidential. In short, I would like to think we were quite private."
He rose without more words, casting down his paper like a man ill- pleased, sent forth his clerk of an errand, and shut to the house- door behind him.
"Now, sir," said he, returning, "speak out your mind and fear nothing; though before you begin," he cries out,
