CHAPTER TWO.
A CONSPIRACY OF SILENCE.
As for me, I was very poor company for any one that afternoon of Hector's funeral.

Something was burning a hole in my pocket, and I felt myself in a most uncomfortable fix.
"It's all up with old Dux," said I to myself, "if it's found out.

But suppose it's found on me?
Still more precious awkward.

I'd either have to lump it or let out.

Don't see much fun in either myself.