"Any of the stiff's friends in this gang?"
The satellite of "Old Forty," who had at first seemed somewhat disposed to resent too much familiarity on the part of the stranger, turned toward him, drew closer, and allowed his features to relax into a grin of friendliness. He had not been so fortunate as to receive a morning dram, and the breath of the stranger had wafted to his nostrils the beloved, delicious odor of "whisky killers."
"Hush!" he whispered confidentially, "that man over there the tall, good-looking one with the whiskers, d'ye mind—"
"Yes, yes! high toned bloke?"
"Exactly; that's the dead man's father-in-law."
"Father-in-law, eh!"