“Is he not here?” was the Jew’s unsatisfactory reply.
“Here? No! We have expected him an hour ago,” returned his master.
“Then I’m blowed if I know any thing of him.”
“But out with it. Tell us how matters went,” said Mr. Brown.
“Not in my presence,” exclaimed Mr. Sloman, springing from his chair.
“Well, if you’re so devilish leary, you may go into that there closet,” and he rose and opened a door, through which Mr. Sloman immediately retreated; “and Slowey,” continued Mr. Brown, in a lower voice, “you’ll find a slit in the door, and hear as much through it as will suit your purpose.”
“I don’t like that’ere chap, he’s so etarnal cautious,” observed the Jew to Mr. Brown, when he returned. “If men mean wots right—as they ought—why be afeard to talk on bisniss?”
“Hush!” returned the host, as he applied his finger to his nose; “and now about the job, old boy. Drink slow, Josh; a third glass will smother ye.”
The Israelite replaced the brandy he was about to bolt, and then continued his narration, which, though delivered in a low voice, was perfectly audible in Mr. Sloman’s concealment—the fissure in the wood having been cunningly constructed for the purposes of professional espionage.
“Well, ye see,” said the bravo, commencing his murderous narration, “Frank and I—and he’s a handy little creature for a thing of legs and arms—were true to time at St. Paul’s; and there we spied our man reg’lar in tow with Julia. Away they goes together, and we follows close behind. When we comes to the place, the girl had mizzled, and Jim and ‘the smasher’ gone too soon to work; and, my eyes—if they hadn’t cotched it heavy! At him we goes from behind; Frank with his gully, and I with this here preserver;” and the scoundrel exhibited the murderous implement he used. “I niver, nowhere, saw a chap more wide awake. He fought like a good-un; and he was so knowin’, that it was almost impossible to draw him. At last Bill and I divides his attention, while Frank gripped him round the legs. He stumbled, fell, and the game was up; for I fetched him a blow across the skull that would have shattered a horse’s head, and left him dead upon the kerb-stones. Before I could strike again—for one likes to make things safe, ye know, Mr. Brown—two chaps jumps in as if they had riz out of the paving-stones. ‘The smasher’ was grassed in a moment—and I knocked clean away. I nivir got sich a nasty one in my life! I was all astray after it—and I know nothing more whatsomever, only lights came up, and fresh ones joined the others. I sneaked off as well as I could, reeling like a drunken man, and leaving our customer dead as a mackarel.”