'I'll be
shot if I didn't meet Tifto at the corner of the street.'
'Tifto!'
'Yes, Tifto. He looked awfully seedy, with a greatcoat buttoned up
to his chin, a shabby hat and gloves.'
'Did he speak to you?' asked Silverbridge.
'No;--nor I to him. He hadn't time to think whether he would speak
or not, and you may be sure I didn't.'
Nothing further was said about the man, but Silverbridge was
uneasy and silent. When his cigar was finished he got up saying
that he should go back to the House. As he left the club he looked
about him as though expecting to see his old friend, and when he
had passed through the first street and had got into the Haymarket
there he was! The Major came up to him, touched his hat, asked to
be allowed to say a few words. 'I don't think it can do any good,'
said Silverbridge. The man had not attempted to shake hands with
him, or affected familiarity; but seemed to be thoroughly
humiliated. 'I don't think I can be of any service to you, and
therefore I had rather decline.'
'I don't want you to be of any service, my Lord.
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