“There aint no manner of doubt of that there,” said the pale man; “not a shadow of doubt. Charley was a wonder.”
“That he was, and no flies,” said Cooney, for he it was who had introduced the name of our hero. “He was allers straight and square with me; I aint got a word to say against him. You chaps here talk about the ‘Smoucher’ and the ‘Dandy’—why they were fools compared to Peace.”
“I dare say they were, or indeed are,” observed the man with the pipe; “but yer see, I never happened to fall across Peace. He was a bloke who, from what I’ve been told, kept hisself to hisself. Vell, I don’t care about blokes of that kidney. ‘Live and let live,’ that’s my motter, and do as ye’d be done by.”
“Well, and who says Charlie wasn’t one of that sort? He allers acted fair and square with his pals.”
“Ah, he was a wonder,” exclaimed the man with the muffler. “He stands alone—there aint a bloke as can come up to ’im. Pity he’s been nabbed, ’cause ye see he was a stunner in every way—leastways, I’m only a speakin’ from what I’ve heard.”
“Oh, you are right enough,” returned Cooney. “You may take your davy about Charlie. You won’t find such another throughout England.”
“I’m precious sorry for him, poor chap. I don’t know as I was ever so broken down in the whole course of my life as when I heer’d of his conviction, ’cause you see he proved himself to be a downright good sort, as far as I am concerned.”
“But yer aint seen much of him of late, have yer?” inquired the pale-faced man.
“No, not much; yer know he was like hide-and-seek, and he kept as much to himself as possible; but, law, he wasn’t to blame for that, seeing what were agen him, he worked on the quiet, all to himself as yer might say.”
“And didn’t care about trusting anybody—eh?”