"Are you going to take much of the stuff with you--much of the red stuff--of the red herrings?" Timmons drew back a pace with a start and looked at Stamer suspiciously. "Have you come to save me the trouble? Eh? Would you like to take it yourself? Eh? Did you come here to rob me? I mean to share fair. Do you want to throw up the great co-operative principle and bag all?" Stamer's eyes winked quickly, and he answered in a tone of sorrow and reproach: "Don't talk like that, gov'nor. You know I'm a square un, I am. I'd die for you. Did I ever peach on you when I was in trouble, gov'nor? It hurts my feelings for you to talk like that! I say, don't do it, gov'nor. You know I'm square. Tell me how much stuff are you going to take with you to-night?" The words and manner of the man indicated extreme sincerity, and seemed to reassure Timmons. "About two pounds," he answered. "Oh!" groaned Stamer, shaking his close-cropped head dismally. "What is the matter with the man? Are you mad? You're not drunk. Your wife tells me you're not on the drink." "No. I'm reforming. Drink interferes dreadful with business. It spoils a man's nerve too. Two pounds is an awful lot." "What are you driving at, Stamer? You say you're a square man. Well, as far as I have had to do with you I have found you a square man----" "And honest?" said Stamer pathetically. "With me. Yes." "No man is honest in the way of business." "Well, well! What is the matter?" said Timmons impatiently; "I've got the kettle on and must run down. I haven't put in those herrings your old woman brought yet." "I know. I'm sorry, gov'nor, for bothering you. I'd give my life for you. Look here, gov'nor, suppose _he_ is not an honest man, like me. He isn't in our co-operative plan, you know. Suppose _he_ isn't particular about how he gets hold of a bit of stuff?" "And tried to rob me?" "That's not what I'd mind." He put his hand to the back of his waistband. "You know what I carry here. Suppose he carries one too?" "You mean that he may murder me first and rob me after?" Stamer nodded. "Well, I'm very much obliged to you, Stamer, indeed I am; but I'm not a bit afraid, not a bit. Why, he's not much over four feet, and he's a hunchback as well." "But hunchbacks can buy tools like this, and a man's inches don't matter then," moving his hand under his coat. "I'm not a bit afraid. Not a bit. If that's what you came about it's all right, and now I _must_ go down. The fire is low by this time, and I may as well run these out of likeness at once." He opened the door for Stamer, who, with a doubtful shake of the head, stepped over the raised threshold and went out. As Stamer sauntered down Tunbridge Street he muttered to himself, "I'll keep my eye on this affair anyway." When the wicket-door was closed Timmons took up the fish-basket, flung away the red herrings a second time, and descended to the cellar. CHAPTER XVII.