It was just a shabby, stupid, furtive business that began between us. Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. Voilà tout. ‘How do you do? I am so happy to meet you.
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