"What do I want?" the fellow sneered. "Well, I want a sovereign, and I
am not going till I get it. If Mr. Copley was here I could have ten
sovereigns. Yes, and he would be glad to pay me, too. You think, because
I have been unfortunate that I can't get any money. You are wrong, young
man, you are wrong."

"Well, you won't get any here," Fielden said. "If you have anything to
say to Mr. Copley you had better wait. He will be here at five o'clock,
but you must wait outside."

"Me wait outside! Who are you talking to? I don't wait for no man, not
even for Raymond Copley. I have got to get back to London to-night
anyhow. You just give me a sovereign or two and tell Mr. Copley you've
done it. Tell him if I have any more of this sort of thing he had best
look for somebody else to play building houses with fruit baskets in
Covent Garden. Tell him that. If I have any more of this to put up with
he can get somebody else to monkey with his fruit baskets. You needn't
say more than that."

In spite of the man's intoxication he knew what he was talking about,
and was plainly desirous of conveying something definite. There was a
malignant look in his eye which Fielden did not fail to notice.

"Oh, be off," he said impatiently. "I won't have any row here. Are you
going, or shall I turn you out?"

The intruder answered with a furious oath. He was anxious, he said, to
see any man on the face of the earth who could do a job like that. He
lurched violently at Fielden, and the next moment was sprawling on his
back with the haziest knowledge of what had happened. Then, at a sign
from Fielden, the two helpers took him by the shoulders and legs and
carried him into the road. He rose muttering and threatening. He shook
his fist towards the stables and lurched off until he was swallowed up
by the darkness. Quite unconscious that his knuckles were cut and
bleeding Fielden went about his work. It was only when Copley himself
appeared and asked what had happened that Fielden looked at his damaged
hand.

"Oh, that's nothing," he laughed. "A tramp came here not long since
asking for you and demanding a sovereign or two as if you were his
banker. The fellow was insolent, and I had to knock him down, but I had
no idea my knuckles were cut. Needless to say the man didn't get his
sovereign, though he did leave a queer message for you. It is
astonishing what strange things men say when they are in liquor."

"And what did this one say?" Copley