“But w’y?”
“That’s wot I wants to ask you, lad. I knows nothing more than I’ve told ’ee.”
“We must save Da-a-a-vid!” exclaimed Tommy in a tragic manner, clutching his hair and glaring.
Tommy’s sense of the ludicrous was too strong for him, even in the most anxious times, and the notion of him and Trumps saving anybody overwhelmed him for a moment; nevertheless, he really was excited by what he had heard.
“Come—come with me,” he cried, suddenly seizing Trumps by the sleeve of his shabby coat and half dragging him up to the garret, where he found old Liz and Susy in the garden on the roof.
“Allow me to introdooce a friend, granny. ’E ain’t much to look at, but never mind, ’e’s a good ’un to go.”
Old Liz and Susy had become too much accustomed to low life in its worst phases to be much troubled by the appearance of their visitor, and when he had explained the object of his visit they became deeply interested.
“You think, then,” said Liz, after listening to the whole story, “that lawyer Lockhart intends to hide a 50 pound note in Mr Laidlaw’s travelling bag, and say he stole it?”
“Yes, ma’am; that’s what I think.”
“And for what purpose?” asked Susy with some anxiety.