We settled it atween us—that is, me and Maxwell and Morgan did—that when the night's work wos over we'd clear out o' Liverpool immediate, and make tracks separately for London, where we wos to meet at Maxwell's rooms.
And wot a night it wos! The snow wos comin' down enough to blind yer, and it wos as much as a man could do to stand agin the wind.
"All the better for the job we've got to do," sed Maxwell; "nobody'll notice us goin' in or out."
Morgan and me set down at one table, and Louis and Maxwell at another. Our chairs wos placed so as we could see the others without turnin' round. We didn't pay much attention to the game we wos playin', though we pretended to be in earnest over it. But we couldn't keep our eyes off the other two. We wosn't as careful as we might 'ave been, for all of a sudden the man as wos bein' rooked cried savagely:
"Wot are you fellers watchin' me for?"
"We ain't watchin' yer," growled Morgan.
"You are, and yer know you are," sed Louis. "Keep your eyes off me, or I'll wash my 'ands of the 'ole crew."
"'Ow am I to take that, Louis?" arst Maxwell, speakin' very quiet.
When 'e spoke like that, with the look on 'is face 'e 'ad then, 'e wos a dangerous man to tackle.
"Take it as yer please," Louis answered. "You and me 'ave knowed each other a goodish long time now, and I've been thinkin' it ain't been much in my pocket. From fust to last it's been a case o' shell out, shell out."