Pen sat drinking it all in, with her eyes growing rounder androunder, until Sir Richard said that it was time she was in bed. He escorted her out of the parlour to the foot of the stairs, where she whispered to him in the tone of one who has made a great discovery: ‘Dear sir, I don’t believe he is a respectable person!’
‘No,’ said Sir Richard. ‘I don’t believe it either.’
‘But is he athief?’ asked Pen, shocked.
‘I should think undoubtedly. Which is why you will lock your door, my child. Is it understood?’
‘Yes, but are you sure you will be safe? It would be dreadful if he were to cut your throat in the night!’
‘It would indeed,’ Sir Richard agreed. ‘But I can assure you he won’t. You may take this for me, if you will, and keep it till the morning.’
He put his heavy purse into her hand. She nodded. ‘Yes, I will. You will take great care, will you not?’
‘I promise,’ he said, smiling. ‘Be off now, and don’t tease yourself over my safety!’
He went back to the parlour, where Jimmy Yarde awaited him. Being called upon to join Mr Yarde in a glass of daffy, he raised not the slightest objection, although he very soon suspected Jimmy of trying to drink him under the table. As he refilled the glasses for the third time, he said apologetically: ‘Perhaps I ought to warn you that I am accounted to have a reasonably strong head. I should not like you to waste your time, Mr Yarde.’
Jimmy was not at all abashed. He grinned, and said: ‘Ah, I said you was a peevy cull! Knowed it as soon as I clapped my daylights on to you. You learned to drink Blue Ruin in Cribb’s parlour!’
‘Quite right,’ said Sir Richard.
‘Oh, I knowed it, bless your heart! “That there gentry-cove would peel remarkably well,” I says to myself. “And a handy bunch of fives he’s got.” Never you fret, guv’nor: Jimmy Yarde’s no green ’un. What snabbles me, though, is how you come to be travelling in the common rumble.’
Sir Richard gave a soft laugh suddenly. ‘You see, I have lost all my money,’ he said.
‘Lost all your money?’ repeated Jimmy, astonished.
‘On ’Change,’ added Sir Richard.
The light, sharp eyes flickered over his elegant person. ‘Ah, you’re trying to gammon me! What’s the lay?’
‘None at all.’
‘Dang me if I ever met such a cursed rum touch!’ A suspicion crossed his mind. ‘You ain’t killed your man, guv’nor?’
‘No. Have you?’
Jimmy looked quite alarmed. ‘Not me, guv’nor, not me! I don’t hold with violence, any gait.’
Sir Richard helped himself to a leisurely pinch of snuff. ‘Just the Knuckle, eh?’
Jimmy gave a start, and looked at him with uneasy respect. ‘What would the likes of you know about the Knuckle?’
‘Not very much, admittedly. I believe it means the filching of watches, snuff-boxes, and such-like from the pockets of the unsuspecting.’
‘Here!’ said Jimmy, looking very hard at him across the table, ‘you don’t work the Drop, do you?’
Sir Richard shook his head.
‘You ain’t a Picker-up, or p’raps a Kidd?’
‘No,’ said Sir Richard. ‘I am quite honest – what you, I fancy, call a Flat.’
‘I don’t!’ Jimmy said emphatically. ‘I never met a flat what was so unaccountable knowing as what you are, guv’nor; and what’s more I hope I don’t meet one again!’
He watched Sir Richard rise to his feet, and kindle his bedroom candle at the guttering one on the table. He was frowning in a puzzled way, clearly uncertain in his mind. ‘Going to bed, guv’nor?’
Sir Richard glanced down at him. ‘Yes. I did warn you that I am a shockingly light sleeper, did I not?’
