“Yes--on _you_, in no time--if you don’t hold your tongue,” interrupted Mr. Dykes. “But ain’t all this a rummy business, though?” he demanded, turning towards Bingham and the subordinate officials. “The old Jew seems a most respectable gentleman--I’d take his bail for any amount, if I was a magistrate. And really his daughter is a sweet young o’oman: the Earl’s going to marry her, I’ll swear to it.” “Mr. Dykes--Mr. Dykes,” whispered Old Death in his ear; and the officer, turning suddenly round again, perceived that the tall, gaunt form of the fence was close behind him. “Well--what do you want?” demanded the functionary. “One word--one word only,” murmured Bones, in a low, guttural, sepulchral tone, while his frame shook with nervous excitement: “one word, I say--only one word.” “Now, then--what is it?” asked Dykes, suffering the old man to draw him towards the recess containing the door which opened into the laboratory. “I must speak to you in private--I have something particular to tell you,” was the urgent and impatient reply. “Come into this room--I shan’t keep you a moment.” “Well--I suppose I must humour you,” said the officer, in a surly tone. “One should look upon you as a dead man; for besides your nick-name, the law will soon make you one in right good earnest.” With this brutal jest--brutal even in respect to so awful a miscreant as Old Death--the Bow Street functionary conducted him into the laboratory, where a light happened to be burning, and the door of which apartment Benjamin Bones closed cautiously behind them. “Now, then--make haste, and tell us all you have got to say,” said Dykes, eyeing the old man suspiciously and in such a meaning fashion as to imply that any attempt at escape would assuredly prove abortive. “Mr. Dykes, you are a good man--and a kind man--I know you are,” began Old Death, in a coaxing tone and with a manner indicating the most dreadful state of nervous excitement: “you would not like to see a poor, miserable old creature like myself sent to--to--the scaffold. No--no--you would not--you would not. But I know that it must be made worth your while--you understand me--and--and--I will give you all I have--yes, all I have--several thousand pounds--for I have got several thousands!” he added, with a ghastly grin. “But no one knows where they are except myself,--and you and I can go together to the place--and I will give you every guinea--yes, every guinea, Mr. Dykes--remember, every guinea I say--if you will agree to this.” “Agree to what?” demanded Dykes, affecting not to comprehend the old villain.