"That's the very business that we're come for," answered Bill.
"Well," resumed the Cracksman, "it seems we're all stumped up, and can't hold out no longer. We won't put this thing off—it shall be done to-morrow night. Eleven's the hour. I will go Dalston way—you two can arrange about the roads you'll take, so long as you don't go together; and we'll all three meet at the gate of Ben Price's field at eleven o'clock."
"So far, so good," said Dick Flairer. "I've got a darkey:[37] but we want the kifers[38] and tools."
"And a sack," added Bill.
"We must get all these things of old Moses Hart, the fence;[39] and give him a share of the swag," exclaimed the Cracksman. "Don't bother yourselves about that; I'll make it all right."
"Well, now that's settled," said Dick. "I've got a bob in my pocket, and we'll have a rinse of the bingo."
The burglar went out to the bar, and returned with some brandy, which he and his companions drank pure.
"So Crankey Jem's in quod?" observed the Cracksman, after a pause.
"Yes—and the Resurrection Man too: but he has chirped, and will be let out after sessions."
"You have heard of his freak over in the Borough I s'pose," said the Cracksman.