"These two gents's pals o' mine.—How much did y' say y'd lay, mates?"
"Out with the name o' th' hoss first," said Tom confidentially.
"This shop's changed hands lately," said the fat fellow behind the counter. "I don't make books. Got no licence."
Didn't that look straight? But the boys were no greenhorns. They walked out of the shop again.
In the road the stranger said:
"The name o' th' 'oss is Double Bee. If y'll give me th' money I'll run upstairs 'ere t' old Josh—everyone knows him for a sound book."
"The name o' th' hoss," said Jack, "is Boots-two-Bob. An' a more cramblin' set o' lies I never heard. Get outter this, or I'll knock y' head off."
The fellow went off with a yellow look.
"Gosh!" said Tom. "We're back home right enough, what?"
"Bon soir, as Frenchy used to say?"