“Tork away, guv’nor,” he said, with a glance towards the open door of the house.
“First,” said Philip—“tell me how you come to be here.”
“They took me, at the last moment, for that ’ere little job at Bamberton—the job of the di’monds. You was in that, Dandy—wasn’t yer?”
“Oh yes—I was in it,” replied Philip. “So I suppose that you—like myself—are making your way towards London?”
The other nodded. “The word was passed for us to scatter; an’ I’ve bin a scatterin’ all the bloomin’ night—I ’ave. I must ’ave bin close on yer ’eels most of the time, Dandy.”
There was a long and somewhat awkward silence between the two. Philip was debating in his mind as to how much to tell the Shady ’un, and how much to leave unsaid. The Shady ’un, for his part, having heard gathering rumours of that business in the wood, eyed his companion somewhat stealthily, and worked out a plan of action in his own fertile brain. He broke silence at last, by coming at the matter in what he thought a highly diplomatic manner.
“Beastly noosance—gels,” he said—staring hard before him.
“What do you mean?” asked Philip, glancing at him in some perplexity.
The Shady ’un drew a deep breath, and shook his head. “There you go!” he exclaimed, with considerable disgust. “No confidence—no trust—no confidin’ spirit about yer! Didn’t I say, a week ago, as you might come ter the Shady ’un, wiv a open ’eart an’ ’and; that ’e was the friend, if ever the Count should fail yer! Strike me pink!” cried the Shady ’un, with much earnestness—“did I say them words—or did I not?”
“I believe you said something of the kind,” replied Philip, after a moment’s pause.