It was all quite unintelligible to Miriam. She noticed the young lad curled up in the corner.
"Who is that?" she asked.
"That, why don't you know 'im? that's Shorty, dearie, m' grandson. The good lady's bin a tryin' to 'elp 'im, but 'e won't be 'elped. Wot's the good o' sarm-singin' when you're 'ungry? 'Ark!" She raised her head and sniffed the wind like a disturbed stag. "It's Jabez' foot, that is!"
Jabez it was. He rolled into the room a good deal the worse for liquor. Recognising his sister he hailed her boisterously.
"You here, old girl? Why, what's in the wind now?"
"There ain't no blunt, any'ow," whined Mother Mandarin; "it's a right down shame as a pore thing like me 'asn't 'eaps of it, 'eaps of it!—poun's an' pence. One as 'ard to git as t'other." A snarl came from one of the sleepers. "Oh, they've ketched you, 'ave they? Why don't yer run now?—there's the road by the 'eath, and the gall'ry in the palace—take which way yer like, but run, or they'll ketch yer!" So did she drone on like some witch evoking a spell.
"Jabez!" Miriam drew him to the other end of the room, and made him sit down. "I have come to warn you. You are in great danger. You must get away at once."
The words sobered the man as nothing else would have done. His face blanched, and his red moustache and beard stood out in horrible relief.
"Danger!" He glanced at the sleepers, at Shorty snoring heavily in his corner, and at Mother Mandarin rocking, rocking, and muttering endlessly before the fire. "We are safe here," said Jabez, "but speak low. What is the danger—that infernal Dundas?"
"Major Dundas knows everything—not only your first crime——"