Lord! how rich you must be! Now listen.

Here's the guinea opinion: Suspect, in this case, the very last person on whom suspicion could possibly fall." Moody, listening attentively, started, and changed color at those last words.

Mr.Troy looked thoroughly disappointed and made no attempt to conceal it.
"Is that all ?" he asked.
"All ?" retorted the cynical vagabond.

"You're a pretty lawyer! What more can I say, when I don't know for certain whether the witness who has given me my information has misled me or not?
Have I spoken to the girl and formed my own opinion?
No! Have I been introduced among the servants (as errand-boy, or to clean the boots and shoes, or what not), and have I formed my own judgement of _them ?_ No! I take your opinions for granted, and I tell you how I should set to work myself if they were _my_ opinions too--and that's a guinea's-worth, a devilish good guinea's-worth to a rich man like you!" Old Sharon's logic produced a certain effect on Mr.Troy, in spite of himself.

It was smartly put from his point of view--there was no denying that.
"Even if I consented to your proposal," he said, "I should object to your annoying the young lady with impertinent questions, or to your being introduced as a spy into a respectable house." Old Sharon doubled his dirty fists and drummed with them on the rickety table in a comical frenzy of impatience while Mr.Troy was speaking.
"What the devil do you know about my way of doing my business ?" he burst out when the lawyer had done.