"I know. I'm sorry, gov'nor, for bothering you. I'd give my life for you. Look here, gov'nor, suppose he is not an honest man, like me. He isn't in our co-operative plan, you know. Suppose he isn't particular about how he gets hold of a bit of stuff?"
"And tried to rob me?"
"That's not what I'd mind." He put his hand to the back of his waistband. "You know what I carry here. Suppose he carries one too?"
"You mean that he may murder me first and rob me after?"
Stamer nodded.
"Well, I'm very much obliged to you, Stamer, indeed I am; but I'm not a bit afraid, not a bit. Why, he's not much over four feet, and he's a hunchback as well."
"But hunchbacks can buy tools like this, and a man's inches don't matter then," moving his hand under his coat.
"I'm not a bit afraid. Not a bit. If that's what you came about it's all right, and now I must go down. The fire is low by this time, and I may as well run these out of likeness at once."
He opened the door for Stamer, who, with a doubtful shake of the head, stepped over the raised threshold and went out. As Stamer sauntered down Tunbridge Street he muttered to himself, "I'll keep my eye on this affair anyway."
When the wicket-door was closed Timmons took up the fish-basket, flung away the red herrings a second time, and descended to the cellar.