"I'm sorry for that, Mr. Shrig, but—"
"A loss, sir, as I shan't get over in a 'urry. You'll remember V'istlin' Dick, p'r'aps,—the leary, flash cove as you give such a leveller to, the first time as ever I clapped my day-lights on ye?"
"Yes, I remember him."
"Veil sir,' e's been and took, and gone, and got 'isself kicked to death by an 'orse!"
"Eh,—a horse?" exclaimed Barnabas, starting.
"An 'orse, sir, yes. Vich I means to say is coming it a bit low down on me, sir,—sich conduct ain't 'ardly fair, for V'istlin' Dick vos a werry promising cove as Capitals go. And now to see 'im cut off afore 'is time, and in such a outrageous, onnat'ral manner, touches me up, Mr. Barty, sir,—touches me up werry sharp it do! For arter all, a nice, strong gibbet vith a good long drop is qvicker, neater, and much more pleasant than an 'orse's 'oof,—now ain't it? Still," said Mr. Shrig, sighing and shaking his head again, "things is allus blackest afore the dawn, sir, and—'twixt you and me,—I'm 'oping to bring off a nice little murder case afore long—"
"Hoping?"
"Veil—let's say—expecting, sir. Quite a bang up affair it'll be too,—nobs, all on 'em, and there's three on 'em concerned. I'll call the murderer Number Vun, Number Two is the accessory afore the fact, and Number Three is the unfort'nate wictim. Now sir, from private obserwation, the deed is doo to be brought off any time in the next three veeks, and as soon as it's done, v'y then I lays my right 'and on Number Vun, and my left 'and on Number Two, and—"
"But—what about Number Three?" inquired Barnabas.
Mr. Shrig paused, glanced at Barnabas, and scratched his ear, thoughtfully.