“What d’you say to a song and dance ’all?”
“’Tain’t so bad. But them places, William, I’ve always noticed, has a tendency to grow immoral. Now, a elderly gent, who’s on the down-grade and ’as ’ad ’is experiences, don’t exactly want that. No, I’m dead set on a public. I think that fills the bill completely.”
“But we can’t all go into the grog business.”
“I don’t see why. ’Tain’t as if we was a regiment of soldiers. There’s but four of us.”
“Oh, well, the liquor’s finished. You can make a git, Garstang. But, if you ask me what I’ll do with this pile as soon as it’s made, I say I still have a hankerin’ after the Crown Heads. They must be most interestin’ blokes to talk to: you see, they’ve had such experience. I’m dead nuts on Crown Heads.”
“And they’re dead nuts on the ’eads of the likes of you, William. Good-night.”
“So-long, Garstang. Keep good.”
And with those words terminated the gathering of the four greatest rogues who ever were in Timber Town.