"Oh, you mustn't show them to anyone!" Baron exclaimed.

"You may think me presumptuous, but the eye that I venture to allude
to in those terms--"

"Is the eye now fixed so terribly on ME?" Peter laughingly
interrupted. "Oh, it would be interesting, I confess, to know how
they strike a man of your acuteness!" It had occurred to him that by
such a concession he might endear himself to a literary umpire
hitherto implacable. There would be no question of his publishing
Sir Dominick Ferrand, but he might, in due acknowledgment of services
rendered, form the habit of publishing Peter Baron. "How long would
it be your idea to retain them?" he inquired, in a manner which, he
immediately became aware, was what incited Mr. Locket to begin
stuffing the papers into his bag. With this perception he came
quickly closer and, laying his hand on the gaping receptacle, lightly
drew its two lips together. In this way the two men stood for a few
seconds, touching, almost in the attitude of combat, looking hard
into each other's eyes.

The tension was quickly relieved however by the surprised flush which
mantled on Mr. Locket's brow. He fell back a few steps with an
injured dignity that might have been a protest against physical
violence. "Really, my dear young sir, your attitude is tantamount to
an accusation of intended bad faith. Do you think I want to steal
the confounded things?" In reply to such a challenge Peter could
only hastily declare that he was guilty of no discourteous suspicion-
-he only wanted a limit named, a pledge of every precaution against
accident. Mr. Locket admitted the justice of the demand, assured him