"No doubt he enjoyed himself that evening. He kept spying round for
you, didn't he?"
"I saw him look once or twice, and I give him a look back, but I
couldn't do much more then; I said to myself I'd keep my eye on him
to see if he came out after the first act. And sure enough he did,
and there was me standing in his way, and he put his hand out to
give me something, and just nodded and went on. It wasn't money, but
a bit of paper twisted up and something wrote on it in pencil."
"I thought so, and where were you to meet him?"
"Well, I knew there couldn't be no harm, him being my own uncle,"
Polly replied with the air of repelling an accusation.
"Of course not; who said there was?"
"Well, it was Lincoln's Inn Fields, the next night. And there he
was, sure enough, with his face half hid as if he was ashamed of
himself, as well he might be. And he begins with saying as he was
very ill and he didn't think he'd live long. But I wasn't to think
as he forgot me, and when he died I should find myself provided for.
And I wasn't to say a word to nobody or he'd take my name out of his
will at once.
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