“Certainly,” was the cordial reply, “and the same to your friends, if you will answer a question.” “Troop up, lads,” the man shouted. “We've a toff 'ere. He ain't a 'tec--I know the cut of them. Out with the question.” “Serve every one who desires it with drinks,” Sir Timothy directed the barman. “My question is easily answered. Is this the place which a man whom I understand they call Billy the Tanner frequents?” The question appeared to produce an almost uncomfortable sensation. The enthusiasm for the free drinks, however, was only slightly damped, and a small forest of grimy hands was extended across the counter. “Don't you ask no questions about 'im, guvnor,” Sir Timothy's immediate companion advised earnestly. “He'd kill you as soon as look at you. When Billy the Tanner's in a quarrelsome mood, I've see 'im empty this place and the whole street, quicker than if a mad dog was loose. 'E's a fair and 'oly terror, 'e is. 'E about killed 'is wife, three nights ago, but there ain't a living soul as 'd dare to stand in the witness-box about it.” “Why don't the police take a hand in the matter if the man is such a nuisance?” Sir Timothy asked. His new acquaintance, gripping a thick tumbler of spirits and water with a hand deeply encrusted with the stains of his trade, scoffed. “Police! Why, 'e'd take on any three of the police round these parts!” he declared. “Police! You tell one on 'em that Billy the Tanner's on the rampage, and you'll see 'em 'op it. Cheero, guvnor and don't you get curious about Billy. It ain't 'ealthy.” The swing-door was suddenly opened. A touslehaired urchin shoved his face in. “Billy the Tanner's coming!” he shouted. “Cave, all! He's been 'avin' a rare to-do in Smith's Court.” Then a curious thing happened. The little crowd at the bar seemed somehow to melt away. Half-a-dozen left precipitately by the door. Half-a-dozen more slunk through an inner entrance into some room beyond. Sir Timothy's neighbour set down his tumbler empty. He was the last to leave. “If you're going to stop 'ere, guvnor,” he begged fervently, “you keep a still tongue in your 'ead. Billy ain't particular who it is. 'E'd kill 'is own mother, if 'e felt like it. 'E'll swing some day, sure as I stand 'ere, but 'e'll do a bit more mischief first. 'Op it with me, guvnor, or get inside there.” “Jim's right,” the man behind the bar agreed. “He's a very nasty customer, Bill the Tanner, sir. If he's coming down, I'd clear out for a moment. You can go in the guvnor's sitting-room, if you like.” Sir Timothy shook his head. “Billy the Tanner will not hurt me,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I came down to see him.” His new friend hesitated no longer but made for the door through which most of his companions had already disappeared. The barman leaned across the counter. “Guvnor,” he whispered hoarsely, “I don't know what the game is, but I've given you the office. Billy won't stand no truck from any one. He's a holy terror.” Sir Timothy nodded.