"Gad, Beverley!" he exclaimed, "I ought not to have left you alone with him,—deuce of a state about it, 'pon my honor. But what could I do,—as I sat here listening to you both I was afraid."
"So was I," said Barnabas. "But he will be quiet now, I think. Here is one of his pistols, you'd better hide it. And—forget your differences with him, for if ever a man needed a friend, he does. As for your rent, don't worry about that, I'll send it round to you this evening. Good-by."
So Barnabas went on down the dark stairs, and being come to the door with the faulty latch, let himself out into the dingy street, and thus came face to face with the man in the fur cap.
"Lord, Mr. Barty, sir," said that worthy, glancing up and down the street with a pair of mild, round eyes, "you can burn my neck if I wasn't beginning to vorry about you, up theer all alone vith that 'ere child o' mine. For, sir, of all the Capital coves as ever I see, —'e's vun o' the werry capital-est."
CHAPTER LI
WHICH TELLS HOW AND WHY MR. SHRIG'S CASE WAS SPOILED
"Why," exclaimed Barnabas, starting, "is that you, Mr. Shrig?"
"As ever vas, sir. I ain't partial to disguises as a rule, but circumstances obleeges me to it now and then," sighed Mr. Shrig as they turned into Hatton Garden. "Ye see, I've been keeping a eye—or as you might say, a fatherly ogle on vun o' my fambly, vich is the v'y and the v'erefore o' these 'ere v'iskers. Yesterday, I vas a market gerdener, vith a basket o' fine wegetables as nobody 'ad ordered,—the day afore, a sailor-man out o' furrin parts, as vos a-seeking and a-searchin' for a gray-'eaded feyther as didn't exist,—to-day I'm a riverside cove as 'ad found a letter—a letter as I'd stole—"
"Stolen!" repeated Barnabas.
"Vell, let's say borreyed, sir,—borreyed for purposes o' obserwation, —out o' young Barrymaine's pocket, and werry neatly I done it too!" Here Mr. Shrig chuckled softly, checked himself suddenly, and shook his placid head. "But life ain't all lavender, sir,—not by no manner o' means, it ain't," said he dolefully. "Things is werry slack vith me,—nothing in the murder line this veek, and only vun sooicide, a couple o' 'ighvay robberies, and a 'sault and battery! You can scrag me if I know v'ot things is coming to. And then, to make it vorse, I 've jest 'ad a loss as vell."