vents, it
can be done,--you understand?--it can be done."

"Indeed," said I, half superciliously.

"Yes," resumed he, "I think so; not but you'd have managed better in
leaving the thing to _us_, That stupid notion you all have of writing
letters to newspapers and getting some troublesome fellow to ask
questions in the House, that's what spoils everything! How can _we_
negotiate when the whole story is in the 'Times' or the 'Daily News'?"

"I opine, sir, that you are ascribing to me an activity and energy I
have no claim to."

"Well, if you did n't write those letters, somebody else did. I don't
care a rush for the difference. You see, here's how the matter stands.
This Mr. Brigges, or Rigges, has gone off, and does n't care to
prosecute, and all his allegations against you fall to the ground.
Well, these people fancy they could carry on the thing themselves, you
understand; we think not. They say they have got a strong case; perhaps
they have; but we ask, 'What's the use of it? Sending the poor beggar to
Spielberg won't save you, will it?' And so we put it to them this way:
'Draw stakes, let him off, and both can cry quits.' There, give me
another light Isn't that the common-sense view of it?"

"I scarcely dare to say that I understand you aright."

"Oh, I can guess why. I have had dealings with fellows of your sort
before. You don't fancy my not alluding to compensation, eh? You want to
hear about the money part of the matter?"

And he laughed aloud; but whether at _my_ mercenary spirit or _his own_
shrewdness in detecting it, I do not really know.

"Well, I'm afraid," continued he, "you'll be disappointed there. These
Austrians are hard up; besides, they never do pay. It's against their
system, and so we never ask them."

"Would it be too much, sir, to ask why I have been imprisoned?"

"Perhaps not; but a great deal too much for me to tell you. The
confounded papers would fill a cart, and that's the reason I say, cut
your stick, my man, and get away." Again he turned to the window, and,
looking out, asked, "Any shooting about here? There ought to be cocks
in that wood yonder?" and without caring for reply, went on, "After
all, you know what bosh it is to talk about chains and dungeons, and
bread-and-water, and the rest of it. You 've been living in clover here.
That old fellow below tells me that you dine with him every day; that
you might have gone into Innspruck, to the theatre if you liked it--I
'll swe