Having reached the little room on the ground-floor, and which we have already described as the place where stolen property was purchased, Old Death opened the door containing the hatch, and led Rainford into a small back chamber, having the air of an office. Its furniture consisted of a desk, a high stool, and one of those large, old-fashioned eight-day clocks, which used to be seen in the kitchens of genteel houses, and the wall-nut cases of which were as big as coffins. On the desk were writing materials, and a huge ledger, especially dirty, as if it had been well thumbed by hands not too intimately acquainted with soap. "This is Tidmarsh's crib, I suppose?" said Rainford inquiringly. Old Death nodded an affirmative. The highwayman opened the book, in which the entries of each day's transactions were regularly made. We shall quote a specimen of these accounts, prefacing the extract with the necessary explanation that the numbers prefixed to some of the memoranda were those which tallied with the names of the thieves, burglars, or prostitutes entered in Old Death's books, as was stated on a previous occasion:— _No._ 31. Two belchers, a cream-fancy, a randlesman, and a blue billy; three wedge-feeders, a yack, and a dee. £1 15_s._ _A Stranger—looked like a shallow cove._ Roll of snow, six snooze cases, three narps, and a blood-red fancy. 8_s._ _A Stranger—looked like a spunk fencer._ Green king's-man, water's-man, yellow-fancy, and yellow-man; pair of kicksters, a fan, and a dummie. 13_s._ 6_d._ _No._ 4. A cat, six pair of shakester's crabs, and a cule. 12_s._ _No._ 53. Yack and onions. £1 12_s._ 6_d._ _A Stranger—looked like a snow-dropper._ Twelve mill-togs. 6_s._ _A Stranger—looked like a peterman._ Busy-sack, redge-yack, six wedge-feeders, and togs in busy-sack. £2 15_s._ _A Stranger—looked like a mushroom-faker._ Lily benjamin. 3_s._ 6_d._ _A Stranger—looked like a crocus._ To smash three double finnips. £12 10_s._ 6_d._ _A stranger—looked like a high-fly._ Redge-fawney. 8_s._ 6_d._ _Lunan._ To smash a single finnip. £2 2_s._ 6_d._[11] "Quite a secret police-book, this," observed Tom Rain, after he had gained an insight into its contents. Old Death smiled grimly. "But do you mean to say," continued Rainford, "that these persons who are noted by means of numbers—for I can understand the meaning of all that—do not know that this is your crib?" "Not they!" replied Bones. "I tell you that they call it _Tidmarsh's_: and I may add that not one out of one hundred who come here, even know old Tidmarsh by sight." "And how does he recognise these fellows who are denoted by the numbers?" asked Tom Rain. Old Death pointed to a small hole, not larger than a pea, in the wood-work which separated the two rooms; and this hole was covered with a little moveable piece of wood on the inner side—that is, in the office where Tidmarsh was accustomed to sit.