“That’s right. You see, you gave Maria Blay a gold watch.”
“Only a second-’and ’un, and I bought the pawn-ticket cheap.”
“Maybe, but there’s a big sound about a gold watch. Then you gave cook a brooch, and Betsy Dellow a gold ring, and it ain’t wise, my lad, it ain’t wise. We’re on the road to fortune, so don’t you get looking back for the sake of a bit of nonsense, or you and me may have to part. Don’t do foolish things.”
“No, Mr Roach, I won’t, sir. I’m very sorry, and I’ll be a bit more careful.”
“That’s right, Orthur,” said the butler, importantly. “I shouldn’t like for anything to come between us two.”
“Of course not, sir. It wouldn’t do,” cried the footman, eagerly.
“Got anything new?”
“Well, no, Mr Roach, sir. I haven’t seen the chance of a tip lately.”
The butler smiled triumphantly.
“You don’t mean to say you have, sir?”