"Underground," said Waterloo glibly. "Underground to Bishopgate, an' then we taike th' Liverpool Street train to Stepney, an'----"
"That is enough," said Beatrice, cutting him short, and walking very fast; "speak as little to me as you can."
Waterloo scowled, and his scowl was not a pleasant sight. However, he held his tongue until they were safe in a first-class underground carriage--Beatrice did not want to go with this creature in a third-class, and luckily there were three or four ladies in the compartment. While the train was steaming through the tunnels, Waterloo held a whispered conversation with Beatrice. At first she was inclined to stop him; but when she heard what he had to say, she listened attentively.
"I saiy," murmured the rogue confidentially, "you're a clipper; y'are tryin' to find out all about us. But y'won't. There's only one cove es can put things straight, an' thet is Waterloo Esquire."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Ah, thet's tellin's, miss. Don't you arsk any questing, an' no lies will be tole. But if y'meke it wuth me while, I'll git you the young gent all t'yourself."
"Mr. Paslow?"
"Thet's him. Not a bad cove--oh, by no means--but a greenhorn, miss, es anyone kin see. If he don't do wot the Major wants him to do, he's a goner--saime es your par an' the Alpenny cove."
"What does the horrible creature mean?" Beatrice asked herself half aloud, and he heard her.
"Don' call naimes, miss. Th' king comes the cadger's waiy sometime, es I knows, an' you may 'ave to meke use of me some daiy. It's all a questing of money."