“‘Your stocking,’ I said; ‘that was not very valuable, I should think.’
“‘Oh, be Gar! it was. I keep all my money in my stocking. Thirty, forty, fifty, hundred pound! Oh, Donnymore, he ver goot fellow; but by Gar, he got leetle too far.’
“‘So you think Donnymore had a hand in this robbery?’ I said, laughing at the Frenchman’s story.
“‘I be dam well sure,’ replied Pegon, slapping his fist on the table. ‘I say to myself, aha, Donnymore, my boy, you have been at your old games again. More stocking, eh? Donny more, take care, sare, you do not go leetle too far.’
“‘Who is Toko?’ I asked.
“‘Toko! he Donnymore’s pal. They stand in always.’
“‘And the third, do you know him? I believe these fellows always work in gangs.’
“‘Oh, certainement! It most be! Let me see. It most be Fon Beest, the German. I know him. Oh! he is crafty, like one English fox—yaes, I say so!’
“Von Beest I had heard of as a clever German thief, who had once been imprisoned for two years for a daring burglary in Oxford-street.
“‘What do you know about Toko?’