“Right you are, old man,” said Cooney, with a nod. “But for all that, I wouldn’t mind doing a seven years’ stretch if I could see him out of limbo, but Lord bless us, there aint much chance of that now. They’ve got poor old Charlie pretty tight, and he’s done for.”
“Will be tried for the Bannercross murder, I ’spose?”
“That’s their game—so I’ve been told.”
“Ah!” said the pale-faced man, “this is how we lose our friends; the best on ’em get nabbed, them as we care most about go the first. It’s the way of the world.”
“Who’s that old woman over there, talking to Bandy-legged Bill?” suddenly exclaimed the sporting man.
“Can’t say,” said the man in the white muffler. “She comes here to see Bill, and seldom speaks to any one else.”
“But who is she? Don’t you know her name?”
“Oh, yes—she’s known as Mother Grover.”
“Thank you for the information. I am about as wise as ever. Who is she, and what brings her here?”
“She wants to know about the Dandy, wishes to find him out, so I’ve been given to understand.”