"And what might your trade be?" inquired Barnabas, as they walked on together along the narrow alley.
"Veil, sir, I'm vot they calls a bashaw of the pigs—but I'm more than that."
"Pray," said Barnabas, "what do you mean?" For answer the man smiled, and half drew from his pocket a short staff surmounted by a crown.
"Ah!" said Barnabas, "a Bow Street Runner?"
"And my name is Shrig, sir, Jasper Shrig. You'll have heard it afore, o'course."
"No!" said Barnabas. Mr. Shrig seemed placidly surprised, and vented a gentle sigh.
"It's pretty vell known, in London, sir, though it ain't a pretty name, I'll allow. Ye-es, I've 'eard prettier, but then it's better than a good many, and that's sum-mat, ain't it? And then, as I said afore, it's pretty vell known."
"How so?"
"Vell, sir, there be some as 'as a leanin' to one branch o' the profession, and some to another,—now mine's murders."
"Murders?" said Barnabas, staring.