"Right as right, my boy." "Ah," said the footman, with a knowing wink, "who'd be without a good only uncle to tip you when you want a few pounds to invest? I say, though, you'll go and pay the old boy as soon as we're gone?" "Won't be time." "Oh yes; you'll be all right. Get it done. Make it easy if we want to do it again, eh?" "All right; I'll go. I say, Orthur, ain't I like a father to you?" "Dear old man!" whispered the gentleman addressed, with a grin. "Me long-lost forther!" "Steady!" said the butler, sternly, and their masks of servitude were on their faces again, with the elder stern and pompous, the younger respectful and steady as a rock. "Yes; I'll go and put that right. Must take a cab. You'll pay half?" "Of course; that's all right, sir. Fair shares in everything. I say, Bob's got something else on. Hadn't a chance to tell you before." "Eh? What is that?" "Goodwood. He's had a letter. I say, shall we be on there? Oh no, not at all." "Pst! coming down," whispered the butler; and the footman opened the door and went out to the carriage, which soon after dashed off, while the butler, after the regular glance up street and down, closed the door. He descended to his pantry, where he drew a glossy hat from a box, took an empty Gladstone bag from a cupboard and went out to hail the first hansom round the corner. This rattled him away in the direction of Bloomsbury, where he descended close to the great grim portico of the church, and told the man to wait. The driver gave a glance at him, but the butler looked too respectable for a bilker, and he settled down for a quiet smoke, muttering, "Grapes or pears." But cabby was wrong. Mr Roach was not the class of domestic to lower his dignity by engaging in a kind of commerce which could be properly carried on by the fruiterer. He made for a quiet street, turned up a narrow court, and passed in through a glazed swing door upon whose embossed pane appeared the blazon of the Medici family--the three golden pills--the crest of the generous relative--"mine uncle" of the borrower high and low, and the minute after he stood in darkness in a narrow box. A sharp-faced young man with a pen behind his ear came from the right and stretched out his hand across the broad counter. "Send the guv'nor," said Roach, importantly. A sharp look was the answer, the shopman went away, and his place was taken directly by a keen, dark man, with a gaslight complexion, and to him Roach handed a little white ticket. "Hullo! So soon!" said the man, showing his teeth, which matched his skin. "Well, didn't I tell you so?" said Roach, importantly. "Yes, but I don't quite believe everything my clients say." "No, and you were precious uppish and hold-offish the other day," said Roach, shortly. "Obliged to be careful, Mr Smith, in my profession," said the pawnbroker, with a peculiar smile. "There's a law against receiving stolen goods, and one don't want to get into trouble."