"I love natur, Mr Canau; and that's how it is I always did love babies and little gals, for they is natur, the prettiest bits of all. I can always kiss them little soft bits of natur, babies--if so be as they're clean, but to be dirty down here in Decadia, 'tis their natur to. But you see they ain't werry fond o' being kissed by me, not being no ways handsome. Natur never took no pains with me when she made me, you know. I don't believe as I were ever finished, and 'cordingly I wear this thick boot. But this here set out's quite upset me, Mr Canau, and I don't think I shall have any more to do with dorgs. I'll keep to birds only; for just fancy having the police in your house, and wanting to make out as you've got a young fellow burked away somewhere, and frightening them poor girls a'most to death! You know it's nothing but that upset as has made poor Mother Winks slip out to get that ginger-beer bottle of her's filled so many times. She don't generally do more in that way than we do with our 'bacco." "I listen to all you say," said Monsieur Canau now, for D. Wragg was almost breathless; "but this does not explain. Where is the young man?" "How should I know?" snarled D. Wragg, fiercely. "You don't suppose I've had any hand in it, do you? How should I know where he is?" "But he came here, and he is gone," said the Frenchman. "Well, suppose he is," said D. Wragg, sulkily. "He came here, and he is gone. How should I know where he is gone. Into the sewers or down the river for aught I know. Do you know where he is gone?" "Who? who? do I know?" cried Canau, excitedly. "No, no--no, no! I know nothing. I have not seen him here or anywhere at all lately. I do not know anything about him--nothing at all." "No more don't I," growled D. Wragg, sullenly. "You do not? You will swear you know nothing at all of the poor young man?" "Course I will," said D. Wragg, stoutly. "He's got dropped on to by somebody; and no wonder. Dessay its part of Jack Screwby's lot; but I ain't going to blow upon anybody. He thought that he was very cunning in setting it down to my door so as to get it away from his; but he didn't work much out of it anyhow. The young chap was safe to come in for it though, flashing about streets like these here with his gold watches and chains and rings, when there's hundreds of hungry mouths about, and hundreds of fingers itching to snatch at 'em. And since you come to that, don't you make no mistake; I never does nothing as ain't honest. But, mind you, I don't say as Jack Screwby knows all about it. I'd just as soon say you do, for you know as you didn't like his coming." "Who?--I?--I know? Not I--nothing at all," cried Canau, very heartily. "But I will take one more little pinch of tabaque, Monsieur Wragg," he said, with the extreme of cold politeness; "and then you will excuse--I go to my promenade."