"How did you find me out?" she asked.
"Jabez knew. Y' sent him twenty quid fro' Craven Street, didn't y'?"
"Yes, but I didn't tell him where I was going."
Shorty hugged himself again and uttered a dignified screech.
"I foun' yer out, I did. Jabez 'e sent me t' the 'otel as y' guv the name on the letter y' sent the quid with, an' I went there, an' sawr the ole cove as Jabez tried to scrag."
"But how did you find out? Did Mr.—did he tell you?"
"Ho yes! 'e tole me, leastways 'e tole Mother Mandarin, an' she tole me, an' I tole Jabez; an' 'e sez, 'you jes' go down,' 'e sez, 'an' say to Miriam as I wants to 'ave a word with 'er, I does,' an' I sez, 'right y'are,' an' I pass off down 'ere, I does, and sleep in barns an' 'aystacks, an' dodges the bloomin' peelers. An' I gits 'ere to-day, an' I sees you a talkin' to that skinny laidy; an' wot does she do but ketches me a clout on the 'ead an' arsks questions; but she didn't fin' out nothink fro' me, no, blarst 'er!—not a bloomin' word, an' I clears out arter you, an' 'ere I am;" and Shorty, having exhausted his stock of breath for the time being, executed a shuffle by way of keeping himself warm.
The cold would have killed a delicately nurtured child, but Shorty, like the man in the Greek story, was "all face," and the cold affected his hardened carcase but little. He shuffled and slapped his hands, and leered at Miriam until her very soul was sick within her. What had she done to be thus visited by this horrible reminder of the past?
"Did Mr.—did the old gentleman tell Mother Mandarin I was with him?"
"Ho yes, 'e tole 'er. Mother Mandarin's fly, she is, an' there ain't much she wants to know as she don't git t' know."