They put enough of some deadly drug into the glass of brandy-and water that stood next to where Todd had been sitting to kill a horse; and then he returned and sat down with a groan, as he said—
"It's quite a funny thing! There's a man at the bar inquiring for somebody; and he's got a red waistcoat on."
"A red waistcoat!" cried both the the thieves, jumping up. "Did you say a red waistcoat?"
"Why, yes; and I think he is what they call a Bow Street thingamy—Lord bless my old brain! what do they call them—"
"A runner?"
"Ah, to be sure, a Bow Street runner, to be sure."
Both the thieves bundled out of the parlour in a moment, and Todd was not idle while they were gone. The first thing he did was to decant his own brandy-and-water—which had been drugged—into an empty glass. Then he filled his glass with the contents of one of the thieves' glasses. After that, he half filled that glass with the drugged spirit, and filled it up from the other thief's glass, and that again he filled up with the drugged spirit.
By this means, each of them had half from the glass they had—as they thought—so very cleverly drugged for him, to drink from; and as they had not scrupled to put in an over dose, it may be fairly presumed that there was in each of their glasses quite enough to make them very uncomfortable.
They both returned.
"There's nobody there now," said one. "Are you sure you saw him, sir? We can't see any one."