"He has indeed," replied the inspector. "But what could he have done with all the swag?"[1] "Oh! he's fadded[2] that safe enough," observed the officer in plain clothes. "My eye! What a slap-up lily benjamin[3] he had on when he was nabbed." "Yes--and sich a swell bandanna fogle[4] in the gropus."[5] "He had'nt any ready tin though; for he wanted to peel,[6] and put the white-poodle up the spout[7] for a drop of max."[8] "And because you would'nt let him he doubled you up with a wallop in your dumpling-depot,[9] did'nt he?" "Yes--but I bruised his canister[10] for him though." "This'll be the third time he's been up afore the beaks[11] at the Old Bailey." "Consequently he's sartain sure to be lagged."[12] "Ah! it must be a clever nob in the fur trade[13] who'll get him off." "Well--talking makes me thirsty," said Crisp. "I wish I'd someot to sluice my ivories[14] with." Markham entertained a faint idea that Mr. Crisp was athirst; he accordingly offered to pay for anything; which he and his brother policemen chose to drink. The officer in plain clothes was commissioned to procure some "heavy-wet"--_alias_ porter; and even the pompous, and magisterial inspector condescended to take what he called "a drain," but which in reality appeared to be something more than a pint. The harmony was disturbed by the entrance of a constable dragging in a poor ragged, half-starved, and emaciated lad, without shoes or stockings. "What's the charge?" demanded the inspector. "A rogue and vagabond," answered the constable. "Oh! very well: put that down, Crisp. How do you know?" "Because he's wandering about and hasn't no where to go to, and no friends to refer to and I saw him begging." "Very good; put that down, Crisp. And I suppose he's without food and hungry?" "I have not tasted food--" began the poor wretch, who stood shivering at the bar. "Come, no lies," ejaculated the inspector. "No lies!" echoed the constable, giving the poor wretch a tremendous shake. "Have you put it all down, Crisp?" "Yes, sir." "Well, let him have a bit of bread, and lock him up. He'll get three months of it on the stepper to-morrow." The poor creature was supplied with a cubic inch of stale bread, and then thrust into a filthy cell. "What do you think that unfortunate creature will be done to?" enquired Markham. "Three months on the stepper--the treadmill, to be sure." "But what for?" "Why, for a rogue and vagabond." "A vagabond he may be," said Markham, "because he has no home to go to; but how do you know he is a rogue?" "Why--he was found begging, wasn't he?" "And does that make a man a rogue?" "Certainly it do--in the eye of the law." "Ah! and that eye can see without spectacles too," added Mr. Crisp with a laugh. Markham was reflecting profoundly upon the law's definitions of _rogue_ and _vagabond_, when another constable entered, leading in an elderly man, belonging to the humbler class, but very cleanly in appearance.