He waved his hand in deprecation of Isaac's movement.
"I dessay yo' didn't know nowt about it—that's noather 'ere nor there. Yo' try John's key in that there door"—he pointed to the cupboard by the fire—"an' yo'll find it fits ex—act. Then, thinks I, where's the key as belongs to that 'ere cupboard? An' John an' I goes upstairs to look about us, an' in noa time at aw, I sees a 'ole in the skirtin'. I whips in my finger—lor' bless yer! I knew it wor there the moment I sets eyes on the hole."
He held up the key triumphantly. By this time, no Old Bailey lawyer making a hanging speech could have had more command of his task.
"'Ere then we 'ave"—he checked the items off on his fingers—"box locked up—key in the 'ouse as fits it, unbeknown to John—money tuk out—key 'idden away. But that's not all—not by long chalks—there's another side to the affair _hal_together."
Saunders drew himself up, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and cleared his throat.
"Perhaps yer don' know—I'm sartin sure yer don' know—leastways I'm hinclined that way,—as Mrs. Costrell"—he made a polite inclination towards Bessie—"'ave been makin' free with money—fower—five—night a week at the Spotted Deer—fower—five—night a week. She'd used to treat every young feller, an' plenty old 'uns too, as turned up; an' there was a many as only went to Dawson's becos they knew as she'd treat 'em. Now, she didn't go on tick at Dawson's; she'd pay,—an' she allus payed in 'arf-crowns. An' those 'arf-crowns were curious 'arf-crowns; an' it came into Dawson's 'ead as he'd colleck them 'arf-crowns. 'Ee wanted to see summat, 'ee said—an' I dessay 'ee did. An' people began to taak. Last night theer wor a bit of a roompus, it seems, while Mrs. Costrell was a-payin' another o' them things, an' summat as was said come to my ears—an' come to Watson's. An' me an' Watson 'ave been makin' inquiries—an' Mr. Dawson wor obligin' enough to make me a small loan, 'ee wor. Now, I've got just one question to ask o' John Borroful."
He put his hand into his waistcoat pocket, and drew out a silver coin.
"Is that yourn, John?"
John fell upon it with a cry.
"Aye, Saunders, it's mine. Look ye 'ere, Isaac, it's a king's 'ead.
It's Willum—not Victory. I saved that 'un up when I wor a lad at
Mason's—an' look yer, there's my mark in the corner—every 'arf-crown
I ever 'ad I marked like that."