"Say what you have to say at once," rejoined Auriol. "I know nothing of you." "You'll know me better by-and-by, sir," said the Tinker, in a significant tone. "I _must_ speak to you, and alone." "If you don't go about your business, fellow, instantly, I'll give you in charge of the police," cried Auriol. "No, you von't, sir--no, you von't," replied the Tinker, shaking his head. And then, lowering his voice, he added, "You'll be glad to purchase my silence ven you larns wot secrets o' yourn has come to my knowledge." "Won't you get in, Mr. Darcy?" cried Thorneycroft, whose back was towards the Tinker. "I must speak to this man," replied Auriol. "I'll come to you in the evening. Till then, farewell, Ebba." And, as the coach drove away, he added to the Tinker, "Now, rascal, what have you to say?" "Step this vay, sir," replied the Tinker. "There's two friends o' mine as vishes to be present at our conference. Ve'd better valk into a back street." CHAPTER VII THE HAND AGAIN! Followed by Auriol, who, in his turn, was followed by Ginger and the Sandman, the Tinker directed his steps to Great Windmill Street, where he entered a public-house, called the Black Lion. Leaving his four-footed attendants with the landlord, with whom he was acquainted, Ginger caused the party to be shown into a private room, and, on entering it, Auriol flung himself into a chair, while the dog-fancier stationed himself near the door. "Now, what do you want with me?" demanded Auriol. "You shall learn presently," replied the Tinker; "but first, it may be as vell to state, that a certain pocket-book has been found." "Ah!" exclaimed Auriol. "You are the villains who beset me in the ruined house in the Vauxhall Road." "Your pocket-book has been found, I tell you," replied the Tinker, "and from it ve have made the most awful diskiveries. Our werry 'air stood on end ven ve first read the shockin' particulars. What a bloodthirsty ruffian you must be! Vy, ve finds you've been i' the habit o' makin' avay with a young ooman vonce every ten years. Your last wictim wos in 1820--the last but one, in 1810--and the one before her, in 1800." "Hangin's too good for you!" cried the Sandman; "but if ve peaches you're sartin to sving." "I hope that pretty creater I jist see ain't to be the next wictim?" said Ginger. "Peace!" thundered Auriol. "What do you require?" "A hundred pound each'll buy our silence," replied the Tinker. "Ve ought to have double that," said the Sandman, "for screenin' sich atterocious crimes as he has parpetrated. Ve're not werry partic'lar ourselves, but ve don't commit murder wholesale." "Ve don't commit murder at all," said Ginger.