I was somewhat startled by this speech, and by the shrewd, cunning eye
which dwelt upon me, as it was uttered; but, however, I was by no means
sure, that acceding to his proposal would not be my readiest and
wisest way to the object I had in view. Nevertheless, there were some
preliminary questions to be got over first: perhaps Dawson might be too
dear a friend to the candid Job, for the latter to endanger his safety;
or perhaps, (and this was more probable,) Jonson might be perfectly
ignorant of any thing likely to aid me: in this case my communication
would be useless; accordingly I said, after a short consideration--

"Patience, my dear Mr. Jonson--patience, you shall know all in good
time; meanwhile I must--even for Dawson's sake--question you blindfold.
What, now, if your poor friend Dawson were in imminent danger, and that
you might have the power to save him, would you not do all you could?"

The small, coarse features of Mr. Job, grew blank, with a curious sort
of disappointment: "Is that all?" said he. "No! unless I were well paid
for my pains in his behalf, he might go to Botany Bay, for all I care."

"What!" I cried, in a tone of reproach, "is this your friendship?
I thought, just now, that you said Dawson had been an old and firm
associate of yours."

"An old one, your honour; but not a firm one. A short time ago, I was
in great distress, and he and Thornton had, God knows how! about two
thousand pounds between them; but I could not worm a stiver out of
Dawson--that gripe-all, Thornton, got it all from him."

"Two thousand pounds!" said I, in a calm voice, though my heart beat
violently; "that's a great sum for a poor fellow like Dawson. How long
ago is it since he had it?"

"About two or three months," answered Jonson.

"Pray, have you seen much of Dawson lately?" I asked.

"I have," replied Jonson.

"Indeed!" said I. "I thought you told me, just now, that you were
unacquainted with his residence?"

"So I am," replied Jonson, coldly, "it is not at his own house that I
ever see him."

I was silent, for I was now rapidly and minutely weighing the benefits
and disadvantages of trusting Jonson as he had desired me to do.

To reduce the question to the simplest form of logic, he had either
the power of assisting my investigation, or he had not: if not, neither
could he much impede it, and therefore, it mattered little whether he
was in my confidence or not; if he had the power, the doubt was, whethe