Five minutes afterwards they were walking in single file towards Mr. Fewster's place of business, where he lived. When they arrived at the door, Mr. Fewster hesitated. He wanted to talk to the Lascar, to get out of him all he knew about Ellen and Joshua; yet, looking at the Lascar, he hesitated. The man divined what was in his mind, and said,--
"There is a policeman coming along on the other side of the way. Go to him and say, 'Look at this man; I have occasion to speak to him on a matter of business; but he is a disreputable dog, and I want you to watch the house. Knock in an hour, and if I don't answer, or if you hear any noise, force open the door.' Say that to him, or something like it, and give him a pint of beer, and you will be all right."
"Come along," said Mr. Fewster, stung by the Lascar's quiet sneer; "I am not frightened of you."
"You have no need to be, master. You can use me like a dog, if you give me to eat and drink."
"Like a dog!" echoed Mr. Fewster, with a laugh. "Well, suppose I regard you in that light; it may be useful."
Mr. Fewster struck a light in the shop, in which there were at least a score of coffins--respectable coffins, solemnly black as coffins should be, with respectable nails to match.
"Waiting for tenants," he remarked, pleasantly, to the Lascar. "The cheap ones--common deal--are in the workshop at the back." Mr. Fewster put the candle down upon a coffin, and looked complacently upon his wares. "Handsome, are they not? This one, now, with lacquered handles and silvered plate for name, age, and virtues, what should you say to that?"
"Shouldn't care much for it," said the Lascar, with evident repugnance. "It would be more suitable for such as you, master. A cheap one--of common deal--will be good enough for me, when my turn comes."
"Quite good enough, I should say."
"You are not going to stop here talking, are you?" inquired the Lascar, seeing that Mr. Fewster evinced no disposition to move.