"Well, then, I'll see what I can do. Mind you, I don't promise nothink.
I'll think it hover. Better come to me to-morrow. Make it in the evening
for there's a h'inquest up at the Towers. My master's been copped for
murderin' his friend, and I'll 'ave to be about, then. Ow'll to-morrow
evening suit?"
Cleek drew a long breath and put out his hand. Then, as if recalling the
superior station of the man he addressed, withdrew it again and remarked:
"You're a real gent, you are! Any one'd know you was wot they calls
well-connected. Ter-morrow it is, then. We'll be 'ere and grateful for
yer 'elp.... Wot's this abaht a murder? Fight was it? I'm 'appy at that
sort of thing myself."
He squared up a moment and made a mock of boxing Dollops which seemed to
please the audience.
"That's the stuff, that's the stuff, matey!" called out a raw-boned man
who up to the present had remained silent. "You're the man for us, I ses!
An' the little 'un, too."
"Reckon I can give you a taste of fightin' that'll please you,"
remarked Borkins in a low voice.
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