"The devil there is!" cried the Resurrection Man. "Then you ain't come for the stiff 'un to-night?"
"No sich a thing; the Sawbones[71] that it's for don't expect it till to-morrow night; so its no use taking it. But there's t'other Sawbones, which lives down by the Middlesex Hospital, will meet us at half-past one at the back of Shoreditch church——"
"What, to-night!" ejaculated the Resurrection Man.
"To-night—in half an hour—and with all the tools," returned the Cracksman.
"Work for the inside of the church, he says," added the Buffer. "Thirty quids isn't to be sneezed at; that's ten a-piece. I'm blowed if I don't like this here resurrection business better than cracking cribs. What do you say, Tom?"
"Anythink by vay of a change; partikler as when we want a stiff 'un by a certain day, and don't know in which churchyard to dive for one, we hit upon the plan of catching 'em alive in the street."
"It was my idea, though," exclaimed the Buffer. "Don't you remember when we wanted a stiff 'un for the wery same Sawbones which we've got to meet presently, we waited for near two hours at this house-door, and at last we caught hold of a feller that was walking so comfortable along, looking up at the moon?"
"And then I thought of holding him with his head downwards in a tub of water," added the Cracksman, "till he was drownded. That way don't tell no tales;—no wound on the skin—no pison in the stomach; and there ain't too much water inside neither, cos the poor devils don't swaller with their heads downwards."
"Ah! it was a good idea," said the Buffer; "and now we've reduced it to a reg'lar system. Tub of water all ready on the floor—hooks and cords to hold the chaps' feet up to the ceiling; and then, my eye! there they hangs, head downwards, jest for all the world like the carcasses in the butchers' shops, if they hadn't got their clothes on."
