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Rh whole world's a trick. Know the trick of all, all's right; don't know, all's wrong. Ha! ha!'

'The porter is gone then?' said Pierre, calmly. 'Well, Mr. Millthorpe, you will have the goodness to follow him.'

'Rare joke! admirable!—Good morning, sir. Ha, ha!'

And with his unruffleable hilariousness, Millthorpe quitted the room.

But hardly had the door closed upon him, nor had he yet removed his hand from its outer knob, when suddenly it swung half open again, and thrusting his fair curly head within, Millthorpe cried: 'By the way, my boy, I have a word for you. You know that greasy fellow who has been dunning you so of late. Well, be at rest there; he's paid. I was suddenly made flush yesterday:—regular flood-tide. You can return it any day, you know—no hurry; that's all.—But, by the way,—as you look as though you were going to have company here—just send for me in case you want to use me—any bedstead to put up, or heavy things to be lifted about. Don't you and the women do it, now, mind! That's all again. Addios, my boy. Take care of yourself!'

'Stay!' cried Pierre, reaching forth one hand, but moving neither foot—'Stay!'—in the midst of all his prior emotions struck by these singular traits in Millthorpe. But the door was abruptly closed; and singing Fa, la, la: Millthorpe in his seedy coat went tripping down the corridor.

'Plus heart, minus head,' muttered Pierre, his eyes fixed on the door. 'Now, by heaven! the god that made Millthorpe was both a better and a greater than the god that made Napoleon or Byron.—Plus head, minus heart—Pah! the brains grow maggoty without a heart; but the heart's the preserving salt itself, and can keep sweet without the head.—Delly!'

'Sir?'