"It's what 'e 'asn't done as is the matter. 'E knows something about this 'ere business. 'E went up to the 'ouse. But 'e won't say a word. Won't tell the police nothing. Nobody can't get 'im to speak." "But 'e ain't in no trouble, is 'e?" persisted Alf. "Trouble? No. They can't touch _'im_. If it was you or me, now, it 'ud be a case o' the police." Alf, much relieved, stifled his conscience. The orator continued his fierce harangue. "Yer mean to tell me," he demanded, "as 'e couldn't say something if 'e wanted to? 'E's in league with 'em, that's what 'e is. Not spies? Not spies? Why, you're as bad as this 'ere Sassiety lady--FitzPeter they call 'er." "What's she done?" asked Alf sharply. "Done? Why, she goes about saying in the paper as she don't believe they was spies. All cammyflage, that is. What are they, if not spies?--tell me that. I believe she's mixed up in it 'erself, too. Why, this 'ere feller Wentworth, 'e went to 'er 'ouse to dinner the very same night 'e 'ad to clear out. That makes you think a bit, eh? An' I 'ear she went an' 'ad a talk with 'im in 'is own 'ouse too. It's all Capital an' 'Idden 'And together. These 'ere Sassiety ladies is no good. Wrong 'uns, my boy, that's what they are. If I 'ad me way I'd...." "If I 'ad my way," said Alf with heat, "I'd 'ave people like you muzzled, I would." "You ... you ...!" "'Ow dare you miscall a lady like Miss FitzPeter?" "Steady, Alf--'old on," said Bill, in an agony lest passion should lead his friend to indiscretion. "I tell yer," resumed Alf, still at the top of his voice, waking his mother from her comfortable nap, "I tell yer that Miss FitzPeter never 'ad nothing to do with no spies, never in 'er 'ole life she didn't, an' any one 'oo says so is a liar." "Ho! I'm a liar, am I?" Mr. Higgins leapt to his feet. His wife, according to her invariable custom when her menfolk quarreled, began to weep quietly, but persistently. "Get out o' the 'ouse! I ain't goin' to be called names by no young 'ound like you. Get out of it! An' what d'you know about 'er, anyway?" "What do I know?" Alf laughed with scorn. "I know a dam' sight more'n...." "Come _on_, Alf!" urged Bill earnestly in his ear, anxious only to get him away before he made some terrible revelation. Alf allowed himself to be led into the street, where Bill gave him a "dressing down." "You blinkin' fool," he said. "What the 'ell d'you want to go an' do that for? You'll give the 'ole blinkin' show away if you ain't careful. Nice we should look if any one found out it was us at the Manor!" "Well," returned Alf, still fermenting, "what's 'e want to go talking like that for? Spies, indeed! What's 'e know about it?" "That ain't the question," replied Bill seriously. "What _I_ want to know is, what's the police know about it. You 'eard what the paper said about a clew." "Don't they always say that?"