"Why didn't you propose to split it between you, and hold your tongues?" asked the Resurrection Man.
"So I did," answered Moll; "and what do you think the old fool said? She up and told me that she always thought that me and my husband was not the most respectablest of characters, and she now felt convinced of it."
"Well, we must have those thirty-one yellow boys, old fellow," said the Resurrection Man to the Buffer.
"Yea—if we can get them," answered the latter; "and I know of no way to do it but to cut the old woman's throat."
"No—that won't do," ejaculated the Resurrection Man. "If the old woman disappeared suddenly, suspicion would be sure to fall on you; and the whole Happy Valley would be up in arms. Then the blue-bottles might find a trace to this crib here; and we should all get into trouble."
"But if you mean to put the kyebosh upon young Markham to-morrow night," said the Buffer, "won't that raise a devil of a dust in the neighbourhood?"
"Markham disappears from Holloway, which is a long way from the Happy Valley," replied the Resurrection Man.
"And the old butler, who is certain to know that the appointment was made for Twig Folly," persisted the Buffer, "won't he give information that will raise the whole Valley in arms, as you call it?"
"No such thing," said the Resurrection Man. "Markham falls into the canal accidentally, and is drowned. There's no mark of violence on his body, and his watch and money are safe about his person. Now do you understand me?"
"I understand that if you mean me to jump into the canal and help to hold him in it till he's drowned, you're deucedly out in your reckoning, for I ain't going to risk drowning myself, 'cause I can't swim better than a stone."