"Will?"
"Aye, the lad with the bottle. He 's lying out on the eaves yet."
Buster gave his guest an admiring look. Such prowess was deserving of all commendation. Wales caught the glance, and chuckled softly. Whatever shortcomings might be laid at the door of the gentleman destined to be the fourth George, cowardice was not one of them.
"Never mind, lads," said another voice. "He cawn't git away. The street is watched and all we have to do is to hunt him up."
"We hain't a doin' hit. Hat least not has I sees."
"Stop your croaking, Blount. D' ye think he could climb to that window?"
"Now for it," murmured Wales.
"Naw, 'ee hain't no bloomin' bird to fly hup ten foot o' wall, his 'ee?"
"Scatter, then. That way there, over to the right."
In obedience to this instruction the party were heard moving off with uncertain steps and Buster turned away from the window with a sigh of relief.