"Might burn your fingers," he said. "That's what I'm thinking of. That's to buy you a bottle of Mother Siegel's soothing syrup. There's only one thing," he went on, brandishing the note in the moon. "Looks a wistful little thing, don't you think? That's because he's lonely. He's left four little brothers and sisters same as himself at home. And he's pining for 'em to join him. And join him they will to-morrow night--if you'll let me in to his loose-box." Jaggers at his best never looked more self-righteous than Monkey Brand as he made reply: "I couldn't let you into his loose-box, Mr. Joses," he said quietly. "Wouldn't be right. Only the door'll be on the latch, and if you choose to come in--why, who's to stop you?" "Right," laughed the other. "I'm an artist, I am, as you may recall. I'd like to paint you in your sleep. Study of Innocence I should call it." He dropped away into the darkness. A whistle stopped him. The little jockey was limping after him. "Say to-night," he said. "No," said the fat man. "To-morrow night. Sunday night. That's the night for good deeds." * * * * * At ten that night Jim Silver escorted Boy Woodburn across the yard to the foot of the ladder. For a moment the two stood at the foot of the ladder in talk. Then the girl disappeared into the loft. As Silver turned away he was whistling. Monkey Brand, who was standing in the stable-door near by, lantern in hand, preparatory to taking up his watch in the young horse's box, coughed. Silver turned and saw him. "Good-night," he said. "Yes, sir," said the little man, gazing up at the moon. "There _is_ some good in him after all. _Some_ good in us all, I s'poses." Jim Silver approached him. He knew the little man well enough by now to know that he was always most round-about in his methods when he had something of importance to convey. "In who?" he asked. Monkey looked surprised and somewhat resentful. "Why, Mr. Joses, o' cos." "What's he done now?" asked the young man. Monkey withdrew into the shadow of the door. "That," he said, producing the five-pound note. Jim handled it. "What did he give you that for?" "Why, for lookin' down me nose and sayin A-a men. The rest's to follow to-morrow midnight--five of 'em--if I'm a good boy, as I 'opes to be. Goin' to drop into me lap same as manners from the ceilin' when Moses was around--while I sleeps like a suckin' innocent." The young man thought. "Have you told Mr. Woodburn?" "No, sir. I told no one--only you." "Shall you tell the police?" "Never!" cried Monkey, genuinely indignant. "Are I a copper's nark?" Whether because of childhood memories, or for some other reason, the copper was still for Monkey Brand the enemy of the human race; and the little jockey had his own code of honour, to which he scrupulously adhered. "What shall you do?" asked Jim.