“You seem to forget,” returned Mr. Woodcourt, “that I ask you to say nothing and have no interest in anything you say.”

“Pardon me, sir!” retorted Mr. Vholes.  “You do yourself an injustice.  No, sir!  Pardon me!  You shall not—­shall not in my office, if I know it—­do yourself an injustice.  You are interested in anything, and in everything, that relates to your friend.  I know human nature much better, sir, than to admit for an instant that a gentleman of your appearance is not interested in whatever concerns his friend.”

“Well,” replied Mr. Woodcourt, “that may be.  I am particularly interested in his address.”

“The number, sir,” said Mr. Vholes parenthetically, “I believe I have already mentioned.  If Mr. C. is to continue to play for this considerable stake, sir, he must have funds.  Understand me!  There are funds in hand at present.  I ask for nothing; there are funds in hand.  But for the onward play, more funds must be provided, unless Mr. C. is to throw away what he has already ventured, which is wholly and solely a point for his consideration.  This, sir, I take the opportunity of stating openly to you as the friend of Mr. C. Without funds I shall always be happy to appear and act for Mr. C. to the extent of all such costs as are safe to be allowed out of the estate, not beyond that.  I could not go beyond that, sir, without wronging some one.  I must either wrong my three dear girls or my venerable father, who is entirely dependent on me, in the Vale of Taunton; or some one.  Whereas, sir, my resolution is (call it weakness or folly if you please) to wrong no one.”

Mr. Woodcourt rather sternly rejoined that he was glad to hear it.

“I wish, sir,” said Mr. Vholes, “to leave a good name behind me.  Therefore I take every opportunity of openly stating to a friend of Mr. C. how Mr. C. is situated.  As to myself, sir, the labourer is worthy of his hire.  If I undertake to put my shoulder to the wheel, I do it, and I earn what I get.  I am here for that purpose.  My name is painted on the door outside, with that object.”

“And Mr. Carstone’s address, Mr. Vholes?”

“Sir,” returned Mr. Vholes, “as I believe I have already mentioned, it is next door.  On the second story you will find Mr. C.’s apartments.  Mr. C. desires to be near his professional adviser, and I am far from objecting, for I court inquiry.”

Upon this Mr. Woodcourt wished Mr. Vholes good day and went in search of Richard, the change in whose appearance he began to understand now but too well.

He found him in a dull room, fadedly furnished, much as I had found him in his barrack-room but a little while before, except that he was not writing but was sitting with a book before him, from which his eyes and thoughts were far astray.  As the door chanced to be standing open, Mr. Woodcourt was in his presence for some moments without being perceived, and he told me that he never could forget the haggardness of his face and the dejection of his manner before he was aroused from his dream.