‘Yes, but there is the shop at the corner. You know they are not particular.’
And that was quite true. The head of that respectable establishment generally contrived to do a good deal of business, in spite of the law and the police, and, if the receiver is as bad as the thief, was a very bad man indeed. In a little while the messenger returned, bearing with him a bottle of gin, a couple of pounds of rump steak, and the other materials for a good supper, and a certain amount of cash, which he handed over to the new-comer, and which seemed perfectly satisfactory. As eagles round the carcase gathered the few casuals that happened to be present. Most of them were old gaol-birds, all of them were the slaves of drink—quarrelsome or good-tempered according to their respective temperaments. They were ready for any feat, or not averse to any crime, if it could be done in a sneaking, underhand manner. Literally their hands were against everyone, and everyone’s hands against them. But now they were all on the best of terms. There was a little drink going on; who knew but what a drop might fall to their share. At any rate they were all glad to see Carroty Bill as they called him once more in their midst; in the line of life they affected his ruffianism made him a hero.
That night was an extra scene of festivity at the lodging house; one of the inmates had been bagged, and had served his time, and had come back resolved to qualify himself as soon as possible for another term of imprisonment, at the expense of the unfortunate taxpayer. And there was a good deal of sociable enjoyment in accordance with the old saying, that when the wine is in the wit is out.
‘Anybody been in trouble, since I was here?’ asked our friend the tramp.
‘No, nothing particular—drunk and disorderly, that’s all. But we’ve had some narrow shaves, and the sergeant told the guvnor last night that ’e’s got his heye on hus.’
‘His eye be blowed! But who is yon cove?’
‘Oh, a poor banker’s clerk.’
‘And the fellow he’s talking to?’
‘Him with the red nose? Oh, we call him the Professor. He’s from Oxford University he says, and gives himself very high and mighty airs when he’s in his cups. But they’re all right.’
‘I’ll soon let you know who I am,’ said a lad who was listening to the talk.