They look at one another, and Tony goes listening to the door, and a little way upstairs, and a little way downstairs. Comes back and says it's all right and all quiet, and quotes the remark he lately made to Mr. Snagsby about their cooking chops at the Sol's Arms.
"And it was then," resumes Mr. Guppy, still glancing with remarkable aversion at the coat-sleeve, as they pursue their conversation before the fire, leaning on opposite sides of the table, with their heads very near together, "that he told you of his having taken the bundle of letters from his lodger's portmanteau?"
"That was the time, sir," answers Tony, faintly adjusting his whiskers. "Whereupon I wrote a line to my dear boy, the Honourable William Guppy, informing him of the appointment for to-night and advising him not to call before, Boguey being a slyboots."
The light vivacious tone of fashionable life which is usually assumed by Mr. Weevle sits so ill upon him to-night that he abandons that and his whiskers together, and after looking over his shoulder, appears to yield himself up a prey to the horrors again.
"You are to bring the letters to your room to read and compare, and to get yourself into a position to tell him all about them. That's the arrangement, isn't it, Tony?" asks Mr. Guppy, anxiously biting his thumb-nail.

They look at one another, and Tony goes listening to the door, and a little way downstairs. Comes back and says it's all quiet.
"And it was then," resumes Mr. Guppy, still glancing with remarkable aversion at the coat-sleeve, "that he told you he had taken the bundle of letters from his lodger's portmanteau?"
"That's it," answers Tony, adjusting his whiskers. "Whereupon I wrote to you, my dear boy."
Despite assuming a light vivacious tone, Mr. Weevle looks over his shoulder, a prey to the horrors again.
"You are to bring the letters to your room to read and compare, so that you can tell him all about them. That's the arrangement, isn't it, Tony?" asks Mr. Guppy, anxiously biting his thumb-nail.
