“Yes I do. She’s in London, I believe, but I can’t exactly say where. I heard of her through Sal—you know Sal, who ’angs out at the vest end o’ Potter’s Lane. I expect to see Sal in ’alf an hour, so if you’re comin’ back this way, I’ll be at the Black Bull by two o’clock, and tell you all I can pump out of ’er.”
“I’ll be there sharp,” said Robin promptly; “an now pull up, for I must take to my legs here.”
“But I say, Robin, if we do find that gal, you won’t split on me, eh? You won’t tell ’er who I am or where I is? You won’t wictimise your old friend?”
“D’you take me for a informer?” demanded Robin, with an offended look.
“Hall right,” cried the Slogger, giving the signal to drive on.
Robin sped quickly away, executed his mission, and returned to the Black Bull in a state of considerable excitement and strong hope.
Slidder was doomed to disappointment. He reached the Black Bull at two o’clock precisely.
“Vell, my fair one,” he said, addressing a waiting-maid who met him in the passage, “it’s good for sore eyes to see the likes o’ you in cloudy weather. D’you ’appen to know a young man of the name of Sl— I mean Villum Bowls?”
“Yes I do, Mr Imp’rence,” answered the girl.
“You couldn’t introdooce me to him, could you, Miss Sunshine?”