Triffitt, banknotes in pocket, went round again at six-thirty, and was duly conducted Oxford Street way by Carver, who eventually led him into a network of small streets, in which the mews and the stable appeared to be conspicuous features, and to the bar-parlour of a somewhat dingy tavern, at that hour little frequented. And at precisely seven o'clock the door of the parlour opened and a face showed itself, recognized Carver, and grinned. Carver beckoned the face into a corner, and having formally introduced his friend Triffitt, suggested liquid refreshment. The face assented cordially, and having obscured itself for a moment behind a pint pot, heaved a sigh of gratification, and seemed desirous of entering upon business. "But it ain't, of course, to go no further--at present," said the owner of the face. "Not into no newspapers nor nothing, _at_ present. I don't mind telling you young gents, if it's made worth my while, of course, but as things is, I don't want the old gent in Portman Square to know as how I've let on--d'ye see? Of course, I ain't seen nothing of him never since I called there, and he gave me a couple o' quid, and told me to expect more--only the more's a long time o' coming, and if I do see my way to turning a honest penny by what I knows, why, then, d'ye see----" "I see, very well," assented Triffitt. "And what might your idea of an honest penny be, now?" The taxi-cab driver silently regarded his questioner. He had already had a five-pound note out of Carver, who carried a small fund about him in case of emergency; he was speculating on his chances of materially increasing this, and his eyes grew greedy. "Well, now, guv'nor, what's your own notion of that?" he asked at last. "I'm a poor chap, you know, and I don't often get a chance o' making a bit in this way. What's it worth--what I can tell, you know--to you? This here young gentleman was keen enough about it this afternoon, guv'nor." "Depends," answered Triffitt. "You'd better answer a question or two. First--you haven't told the old gentleman in Portman Square--Mr. Tertius--any more than what you told my friend here you'd told him?" "Not a word more, guv'nor! 'Cause why--I ain't seen him since." "And you've told nothing to the police?" "The police ain't never come a-nigh me, and I ain't been near them. What the old chap said was--wait! And I've waited and ain't heard nothing." "Wherefore," observed Triffitt sardonically, "you want to make a bit." "Ain't no harm in a man doing his best for his-elf, guv'nor, I hope," said the would-be informant. "If I don't look after myself, who's a-going to look after me--I asks you that, now?" "And I ask you--how much?" said Triffitt. "Out with it!" The taxi-cab driver considered, eyeing his prospective customer furtively. "The other gent told you what it is I can tell, guv'nor?" he said at last. "It's information of what you might call partik'lar importance, is that."