Jentham
goin' and gettin' shot, and it will take a good many tankards of bitter
at thru'p'nce to make that up.'

'Oo d'y think shot 'im, Mr Mosk?'

'Arsk me sum'thin' easier, carn't you? I don't know nothin' about the
cove, I don't; he comes 'ere two, three weeks ago, and leaves owin' me
money. Where he comes from, or who he is, or what he's bin doin' to get
shot I know no more nor you do. All I does know,' finished Mosk,
emphatically, 'is as I've lost two bloomin' quid, an' that's a lot to a
poor man like me.'

'Well, father, it's no good making a fuss over it,' cried Bell, who
overheard his grumbling. 'If Jentham hadn't been shot, we wouldn't be
doing so well. For my part, I'm sorry for the poor soul.'

'Poor blackguard, you mean!'

'No, I don't. I don't call any corpse a blackguard. If he was one, I
daresay he's being punished enough now without our calling him names. He
wasn't the kind of man I fancied, but there's no denying he was
attractive in his own wicked way.'

'Ah!' said a dirty-looking man, who was more than suspected of being a
welcher, 'couldn't he tell slap-up yarns about H'injins an' 'eathens as
bows down to stocks and stones. Oh, no! not he--'

'He could lie like a one-year-old, if that's what y' mean,' said Mosk.

'Bloomin' fine lyin', any'ow,' retorted the critic. 'I'd git orf the
turf if I cud spit 'em out that style; mek m' fortin', I would, on th'
paipers.'

'Y've bin chucked orf the turf often enough as it is,' replied the
landlord, sourly, whereat, to give the conversation a less personal
application, the dirty welcher remarked that he would drain another
bitter.

'I suppose you'll be as drunk as a pig by night,' said Bell, taking the
order. 'Jentham was bad, but he wasn't a swine like you.'

'Garn! 'e got drunk, didn't he? Oh, no! You bet he didn't.'

'He got drunk like a gentleman, at all events. None of your sauce,
Black, or I'll have you chucked. You know me by this time, I hope.'

In fact, as several of the customers remarked, Miss Bell was in a fine
temper that morning, and her tongue raged round like a prairie fire.
This bad humour was ascribed by the public to the extra work entailed on
her by the sensation caused by the murder, but the true cause lay with
Gabriel. He had promised faithfully, on the previous night, to come
round and see Mrs Mosk, but, to Bell's anger, had failed to put in an
appearance--the first time he had done such a thing. As Miss Mosk's
object was