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"Good heavens!" I exclaimed. "That unfortunate creature?" "That werry same i-dentical, sir a wictim o' wiciousness as your late lamented uncle, Sir Jervas, God bless 'im amen! saved from des'prit courses " "My uncle Jervas " I exclaimed. "Saved from des'prit courses!" repeated Mr. Shrig. "Himself, sir.
Shrig, laying a finger on my arm. "I must speak with yonder scoundrel." "Scoundrel is the werry i-dentical vord, sir but bide a bit easy it is." As he spoke, the Captain turned out of the street into a field path shaded by a tall hedge; in due time we also came to this path and saw a shady lane ran parallel with it, down which a man was walking.
"Ah!" said Barnabas, slowly and very softly, and clenched his fist. "So now, d'ye see, you can't go can ye?" said Mr. Shrig in a hopeless tone. "Yes!" said Barnabas. "Eh? Vot you vill?" "Most assuredly!" "But but it'll be madness!" stammered Mr. Shrig, his round eyes rounder than ever, "it'll be fair asking to be made a unfort'nate wictim of, if ye go.
"Here is the note, and if you wish, John Peterby will drive you back to London with him." "V'y, thank'ee sir, 'e shall that, but you, now?" Mr. Shrig paused, and, somewhat diffidently drew from his side pocket a very business-like, brass-bound pistol, which he proffered to Barnabas, "jest in case they should 'appen to come back, sir," said he.
"Oh, did you?" "I likewise 'eered her call your name Beverley, I think?" "Yes, well?" "Beverley!" repeated Mr. Shrig. "Yes." "But your name's Barty!" "True, but in London I'm known as Beverley, Mr. Shrig." "Not not the Beverley? Not the bang up Corinthian? Not the Beverley as is to ride in the steeplechase?" "Yes," said Barnabas, "the very same, why?" "Now dang me for a ass!" exclaimed Mr.
"A what?" said Barnabas. "A corp, sir a stiff " "Do you mean dead?" "Ah, I mean werry much so!" nodded Mr. Shrig. "Number Three vill be stone cold, somev'eres in the country it'll 'appen, I fancy, say in a vood!
"Because it ain't much pertection ag'in windictiveness in the shape of a bludgeon, shall ve say, and as for a brick v'y, Lord! And theer's an uncommon lot of windictiveness about to-night; it's a-vaiting for you as you might say round the corner." "Really, Mr. Shrig, I'm afraid I don't understand you."
"Aye, to be sure, sir!" nodded Mr. Shrig. "Wiciousness has been a-ridin' in that theer chaise an' Windictiveness a-gallopin' arter on your 'oss. P'raps you can likewise tell me who't was as rode your 'oss?" "No," I answered, "unless good heaven, can it be Anthony my friend Mr. Vere-Manville?" "Name sounds familiar!" said Mr.
Shrig took his little book, opened it, closed it, thrust it into his pocket, and took it out again. "Sir," said he, catching Barnabas by the hand, "this here little book is more to me nor gold or rubies. Sir, you are my pal, and consequent the Corp's also, and this 'ere chaffing-crib is allus open to you.
Here, pausing in a quiet corner of Fleet Market, Mr. Shrig dived into his breast and fetched up his little book. "Sir," said he, turning over its pages with a questing finger, "v'en I borreyed that theer letter out o' young B.'s pocket, I made so free as to take a copy of it into my little reader, 'ere it is, jest take a peep at it."
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