"Don't let him know of this place of mine for the world," said Tidkins. "A drunken chap like that isn't to be trusted in any shape. I only hope he won't wag his tongue too free about the business that put all the money into his pocket."
"Not he!" cried the Lully Prig: "he's as close as the door of Newgate about them kind of things, even when he's as drunk as a pig. But I don't want to have nothing more to do with him; I'll stick to you and the Buffer; and when you've settled all the things you say you have in hand, we'll be off to Americky."
"So we will, Lully. But this fellow Crankey Jem annoys me. You must go on watching him. Or p'rhaps it would be better to get the Bully Grand to set some of his Forty Thieves after him?" added the Resurrection Man.
"No—no," cried the Lully Prig, whose pride was somewhat hurt at this suggestion, which seemed to cast a doubt upon his own skill and ability in performing the service required: "leave him in my hands, and I'll find out what dodge he's upon sooner or later."
Scarcely were these words uttered, when a knock at the front door fell on the ears of the two villains.
The Resurrection Man descended; and, to the usual inquiry ere the door was opened, the well-known voice of the Buffer answered, "It is me."
"Well—what luck?" demanded the Resurrection Man, hastily—his avarice prompting the question even before his accomplice in iniquity had scarcely time to utter a reply to the first query.
"Sold—regularly sold—done brown!" returned the Buffer, closing and bolting the door behind him.
"Damnation!" cried the Resurrection Man, who, now that the faint hope of obtaining a further share of the plunder of Greenwood's tin-case was annihilated, manifested a fiercer rage than would have been expected after his cool reasoning with the Lully Prig upon the special point.
"You may well swear, Tony," said the Buffer, sulkily, as he ascended the stairs; "for we never was so completely done in all our lives. That snivelling Mounseer was one too many for us."