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"I 'opes as theer's no offence,in a tone that was a strangeservility "Cragg is y's my natur', but I knohen I'm beat I knowed ye

as soon as I laid my 'peepers' on ye, an' if I said as it were a

foul, hen a man's in 'is cups, d'ye see, 'e's apt to shoot

rayther wide o' the gospel, d'ye see, an' there was no offence,

my lord, strike

by nay by--"

"But I don't know you," said I, "and, for that ot no whiskers, my lord--leastways, not with you

now, but--"

"And what the devil has that got to do with it?" said I angrily

"Disguises, p'raps!" said the felloith a sly leer, "arter

that theer kidnappin'--an' me 'avin' laid out Sir Jarsper Trent,

in Wych Street, accordin' to your orders, ive me word to 'clear out'--cut an' run for it, till it blow'd

over; an' I thought, p'raps, knowin' as you an' 'iht as you 'ad 'cut stick' too--"