“Of course he does. The best of them always do. He’s traveling under a false name. And I know something more about him, but I don’t like to tell it because I can’t prove my story. There’s some things you can know in this world, my boy, but it’s safer to keep ’em to yourself. My advice to you is to give Mr. Lantry, alias Watson, a wide berth, or lock your money in an iron trunk and throw the key overboard.”
“He wouldn’t get much from me if he did get into my trunk or my pockets,” replied the boy. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“Well, be careful anyway. Such fellows have got a surprise for you at every turn. They’re not safe to get mixed up with under ordinary circumstances.”
“Would one of those big gamblers pick your pocket?”
“Oh, perhaps not. They’d rather get your ‘spon’ legitimately. That’s safer, you know. But I’m not saying positively this fellow’s a card shark. I’ll tell you, though, what he’s been if you’ll promise not to breathe a word to anybody. He could make a lot of trouble for me for circulating stories about him that I couldn’t prove in a court of law.”
“I’m not a gossip,” reassured the boy a little proudly.
“Well, be sure you keep this to yourself. If by accident it does you any good, I’m glad to pass you the information. I don’t know what his game is now, but he used to be a fog pirate.”
“A what?”
“A fog pirate, a London fog pirate. That’s a highwayman, or footpad, who works his game under cover of the fog.”
“How do you know Watson, or Lantry, has been a fog pirate?” inquired Guy, with peculiar interest because of “fog pirate” experiences of his own.