“Very lucky, for he’s a desperate old scoundrel is this Dawes, as he now calls himself, but I shall be able to prove several previous convictions against him, I’ve no doubt, but let me make sure of my man first.”
Mr. Wrench made the best of his way to Drury-lane. In one of the narrow turnings, which led from that place to Great Wild-street, the smasher resided, and it was to this turning that our two detectives were bending their steps.
It was the resort of thieves and all sorts of disreputable characters, many of whom were well known to the police. They had got about twenty yards or so down the court or alley, when Mr. Wrench was accosted by a woman who was a native of the Emerald Isle.
“Ah, good luck to ye, Mr. Wrench,” said the woman, making a curtsey, “An’ it’s right ye are this time if any jintleman iver was. Oh, sure, now aint he fast asleep in the front room, and a snorin’ like a dozen fat hogs?”
“He’s in his room, Winny, is he?” cried Wrench.
“Didn’t I see him myself wid my own precious eyes not a moment ago? Oh, bedad, he’s a waitin’ for ye, and no mistake at all at all.”
That’s all right, then, Winny; we’ll pay the gentleman a visit.”
“Oh, the thief of the world; but he’s a dirty circumvinting blackguard, mek the best av him. But arrah don’t ye be afther saying a word about me, or maybe he’d be a little rampageous like.”
“I won’t mention your name—depend upon that,” said Wrench. “We never do that in cases of this sort; besides, you know, there is no occasion.”
“Thin, I’ll be afther going, or maybe he might suspect something. Oh, but ye’ve jest come in the nick of time. My duty to ye, Mr. Wrinch, and good luck to ye.”