"And yet I should think he would not fail," continued Old Death in a musing strain. "His conduct seemed straight-forward and right enough the very first day we agreed to terms; and he even gave me my regulars in a matter that I'd nothing to do with. But it was well for him that he did so; or else he'd have been laid up in lavender for want of bail." "Bertinshaw and Watkins did it pretty tidy," said Jacob, who was making prodigious inroads upon the bread-and-butter. "Keep your observations to yourself," growled Old Death in a surly tone. "Remember, I haven't forgot your negligence in losing sight of Tom Rain the other day, when he left the police-office." "It wasn't my fault," returned the lad, his dark eyes flashing angrily. "I kept lurking about the court after I had been up here to tell you that Dykes had nabbed Mr. Rainford: I saw him go over to the coffee-house soon after he was discharged—I followed him when he went in a coach to Pall Mall—I dogged him back again to Bow Street—and then——" "And then when the Jewess's case was over, you saw him come out, and you lost sight of him," interrupted Old Death angrily. "But never mind," he added, softening a little: "I will set you to watch him another day when you've nothing better to do, and we will find out all _I_ want to know about him." "When did you see him last?" inquired Toby Bunce. "This morning, at Tullock's; and——" Old Death was interrupted by a knock at the street door, to which summons Jacob hastened to respond. In a few moments he returned, accompanied by Tom Rain, who sauntered into the room, with a complaisant air and the chimney-pot hat stuck on the right side of his head. "So you are come at last, Tom," said Bones, _alias_ Old Death, his toothless jaws grinning a ghastly satisfaction. "Well, better late than never. But let me introduce you to my very particular friends Mr. and Mrs. Bunce; and as they are good friends of mine, they will be good friends to you. This crib of theirs is convenient in more ways than one," added the old man significantly; "and you will find it so if you ever want to lay up for a time until the storm which must menace one sometimes, blows over." "The hint may not prove useless at a pinch," said Tom carelessly, as he seated himself on the form. "But there's some one present whose name you've not yet mentioned, old chap?" And he glanced towards the sickly lad, who was still occupied with the edible portion of the repast. "Oh! that's my Mercury—my messenger—my confidant—or any thing else you like to call him," said Bones. "His name Is Jacob Smith, for want of a better—and he's a perfect treasure in his way. He can scent an officer two streets off, and would prove the best scout that ever a general commanding an army could possibly employ. Now you know his qualifications; and if you ever want to make use of them, he is at your service."