Mag was in some way reassured. She feared and distrusted Blind George, and she was confounded to learn how much he knew: but at least he was still ignorant of the essential thing. So she said, "Knowin' so much more'n me, I wonder you dunno that too. Any'ow I don't."
"What? You dunno. Dunno where 'e is?"
"No, I don't; no more'n you."
"O, that's all right—all right for anybody else; but not for a pal like me—not for a pal as is doin' y' a good turn. Besides, it ain't you on'y; it's 'im. 'Ow'll 'e get on with the stuff? 'E won't be able to change it, an' 'e'll be as short as you, an' p'rhaps get smugged with it on 'im. That 'ud never do; an' I can get it changed. What part o' Rotherhithe is it, eh? I can easy find 'im. Is it Dockhead?"
"There or anywhere, for all I know. I tell ye, George, I dunno no more'n you. Let go my arm, go on."
But he gave it another pull—an angry one. "What? What?" he cried. "If Dan knowed as you was keepin' 'is ol' pal George from doin' 'im a good turn, what 'ud 'e do, eh? 'E'd give it you, my beauty, wouldn't 'e? Eh? Eh?" He twisted the arm, ground his teeth, and raised his stick menacingly.
But this was a little too much. He was a man, and stronger, but at any rate he was blind. She rose and struggled to twist her arm from his grasp. "If you don't put down that stick, George," she said, "if you don't put it down an' let go my arm, I'll give it you same as Bob Kipps got it—s'elp me I will! I'll give you the chive—I will! Don't you make me desprit!"
He let go the wrist and laughed. "Whoa, beauty!" he cried; "don't make a rumpus with a faithful pal! If you won't tell me I s'pose you won't, bein' a woman; whether it's bad for Dan or not, eh?"
"I tell you I can't, George; I swear solemn I dunno no more'n you—p'rhaps not so much. 'E ain't bin near nor sent nor nothing, since—since then. That's gospel truth. If I do 'ear from 'im I'll—well then I'll see."
"Will ye tell 'im, then? 'Ere, tell 'im this. Tell 'im he mustn't go tryin' to sell them notes, or 'e'll be smugged. Tell 'im I can put 'im in the way o' gettin' money for 'em—'ard quids, an' plenty on 'em. Tell 'im that, will ye? Tell 'im I'm a faithful pal, an' nobody can do it but me. I know things you don't know about, nor 'im neither. Tell 'im to-night. Will ye tell 'im to-night?"