Wilks was still suspicious. "I don't know what you mean," he said. Then, after a pause, he added: "Who are you, then?" Hewitt winked and screwed his face genially aside. "Hooky!" he said. "I've had a lucky touch[A] and I'm Mr. Smith till I've melted the pieces.[B] You come and damp it." [Footnote A: Robbery.] [Footnote B: Spent the money.] "I'm off," Wilks replied. "Unless you're pal enough to lend me a quid," he added, laughing. "I am that," responded Hewitt, plunging his hand in his pocket. "I'm flush, my boy, flush, and I've been wetting it pretty well to-day. I feel pretty jolly now, and I shouldn't wonder if I went home cannon.[A] Only a quid? Have two, if you want 'em--or three; there's plenty more, and you'll do the same for me some day. Here y'are." [Footnote A: Drunk.] Hewitt had, of a sudden, assumed the whole appearance, manners, and bearing of a slightly elevated rowdy. Now he pulled his hand from his pocket and extended it, full of silver, with five or six sovereigns interspersed, toward Wilks. "I'll have three quid," Wilks said, with decision, taking the money; "but I'm blowed if I remember you. Who's your pal?" Hewitt jerked his hand in my direction, winked, and said, in a low voice: "He's all right. Having a rest. Can't stand Manchester," and winked again. Wilks laughed and nodded, and I understood from that that Hewitt had very flatteringly given me credit for being "wanted" by the Manchester police. We lurched into a public house, and drank a very little very bad whisky and water. Wilks still regarded us curiously, and I could see him again and again glancing doubtfully in Hewitt's face. But the loan of three pounds had largely reassured him. Presently Hewitt said: "How about our old pal down in Gold Street? Do anything with him now? Seen him lately?" Wilks looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. "That's a good job. It 'ud be awkward if you were about there to-day, I can tell you." "Why?" "Never mind, so long as you're not there. I know something, if I _have_ been away. I'm glad I haven't had any truck with Gold Street lately, that's all." "D'you mean the reelers are on it?" Hewitt looked cautiously over his shoulder, leaned toward Wilks, and said: "Look here: this is the straight tip. I know this--I got it from the very nark[A] that's given the show away: By six o'clock No. 8 Gold Street will be turned inside out, like an old glove, and everyone in the place will be----" He finished the sentence by crossing his wrists like a handcuffed man. "What's more," he went on, "they know all about what's gone on there lately, and everybody that's been in or out for the last two moons[B] will be wanted particular--and will be found, I'm told." Hewitt concluded with a confidential frown, a nod, and a wink, and took another mouthful of whisky. Then he added, as an after-thought: "So I'm glad you haven't been there lately." [Footnote A: Police spy.] [Footnote B: Months.]