"Now, look here, Jack Screwby," Janet heard D. Wragg exclaim; "don't you make no mistake; trade's trade, but I ain't cut my wisdom-teeth for nothing. So look here; if you come to my shop again, and speak to them gals as you did, and hang about here as you've hung, and talk about it like you've talked, I'll--well, there; just you look out and you'll see." "Wot's he allus a hangin' about for, then," growled the other voice; "you wouldn't talk like this sort to him--no I ain't! I ain't drunk--so now then! P'raps I'm as good a man as he's, and got a bit o' money to go into the fancy with any time I like; and arter the good turns I've done you, if you were anything of a man, you'd say, Come and be pardners. I've done you no end of good, D. Wragg; and now, as I wants to be good friends, you're all wrong with a chap as is p'raps ekalls with them as does in dawgs." "You _air_ drunk, that's what you _air_!" exclaimed D. Wragg, indignantly, "or else you'd never come talking like that there! Pardner, indeed!" he continued, contemptuously; "there, get out!" Then once more there came the sound of scuffling, evidently caused by D. Wragg supplementing his order with the efforts of his hands, Mr Screwby opposing with all the resistance he could bring to bear. Before many moments had passed, it was evident that the owner of the mansion had gained the victory over his semi-intoxicated foe; for the scuffle was followed by two or three oaths, a clattering of heavy boots, and then the banging of the side-door; after which Janet stood ready to retreat, as she heard the "stump--stump" of D. Wragg's lame foot coming along the passage. "Pardner, indeed!" muttered D. Wragg, "pardner, indeed! He--he--he-- he--he!" he sniggered; and then he seemed to stand holding by the bottom of the balustrade to indulge in a few minutes' sardonic mirth. "He's as drunk as an owl--a vagabond! Dursn't tell tales, though, if I did kick him. Let him tell, though, if he likes; who's afraid?" Judging from the tones of his voice, though, an unbiassed listener would have been disposed to say that Mr D. Wragg was also rather far gone towards being inebriated; while, as to the fact of being afraid, if he were not in a state of fear--why did he speak so loudly? The fact was, that after setting down his friends, D. Wragg had driven off with the rickety four-wheeler, whose problem still remained unsolved, to wit, how it had possibly contrived to hold together for another day. But held together it had, even till its return to the owner's; and D. Wragg had made his way back to Brownjohn Street to finish the day with what he called a "top-off," at one of the flaming gin-palace bars, where he had encountered Mr John Screwby, who then roused the dealer's ire by certain references, one and all of which Mr D. Wragg had classed under the comprehensive term of "cheek!"