"No," answered the constable; "no man has come this way."
"You had better look after him if he does," said Mingy Bowes, "for he came offering me things to sell which I didn't choose to buy. I'm sure he's stolen them, and I thought you might be watching for him."
"Oh, no," answered the constable; "I'm looking for young Wilson, who lives up there in number four. He came home drunk last night, and thrashed his wife till she was nearly dead. She was taken to the hospital this morning, and as the surgeon says she's in great danger, the magistrates will have him up. He's keeping out of the way, however; but he'll be starved home soon, for he hasn't a penny in his pocket, and nobody will trust him, I'm sure."
Mingy Bowes laughed, and the constable laughed; for there are some people to whom sorrows which would make most men melancholy, and crimes which ought to make all men melancholy, are very good jokes.
Mr. Bowes was well satisfied too with the information, although upon other points he was a little inclined to be sulky. Hurrying home again, he soon set free his concealed companion, who had by this time recovered from the blow upon his shins, and who now walked quietly--I might say absently--to the fire, and took his old seat again; but Mr. Bowes was not well pleased with him, and proceeded to read him a lecture.
"I wonder how you can be such a fool, Sam," he said. "Jones has nothing to do with the cove who was here just now. He's looking for young Wilson; and just because you thought it was a trap, you must go and throw the pocket-book into the fire, when you might have got a hundred pound for it. Now you've done for yourself. The gentleman will put the beaks upon you, and they'll soon nab you, you may depend upon it."
"He daren't," said the other, with a twist of his mouth; "and you're a fool, Mingy, for talking about what you don't understand."
"Not so great a fool as you," answered Mingy Bowes, boldly; "for what was the use of burning the book? That was no good at all: whatever you intend to do, you might as well have kept it."
"There you're out," said the other: "'twas the very best thing I could do with it. You're not up to snuff yet, Master Mingy, I can tell you. I didn't read what was in the book for nothing; and I've got this young fellow, whoever he is, in a vice that'll squeeze him pretty hard, as you'll see before long. I could hang him to-morrow if I liked--though that, indeed, would be no great good to me or anybody else; but I'll sweat him, notwithstanding."
"I don't understand," said Mingy Bowes. "If you could hang him, he could hang you, I fancy; and that wouldn't suit you, Master Sam--at least, I should think not."