“I’m very much obliged to you, Mr. White, sir,” he said breathlessly, “an’ I’d be glad to take it if my leg was better; but what with the wet weather an’ hardships and trouble I’ve been in....” “It’s a job that will suit you,” said Whitey, “not much risk and a hundred pounds.” “Oh,” said Coals thoughtfully, “not a laggin’ job?” “That’s your business.” Whitey was brusque to the point of rudeness. “You’ve done lagging for less.” “That’s true,” admitted the man. Whitey searched his pocket and found a sovereign. “In the course of the next day or two,” he said, “I shall send for you--you can read, can’t you?” “Yes, sir, thank God,” said Coals, heartily for him, “I’ve had my schooling and good use I’ve made of it; I’ve always been a well-behaved man inside, and never lost a mark.” “Indeed,” said Whitey, without enthusiasm. He did not like to hear men talk with such pride of their prison reputations. They parted at the Kent Road end of the street, and Whitey went to the Embankment by a convenient tramway car. He went to his hotel, but only to get an overcoat, for the night was chilly. In a few minutes he was back on the Embankment, going eastward. He hoped to learn something from the Borough. Near the end of the thoroughfare wherein Peter resided was a coffee-stall. The folks of Redcow Court were of irregular habits; rising at such hours as would please them and seeking sleep as and when required. Meals in Redcow Court were so many movable feasts, but there was one habit which gave to the Courtiers a semblance of regularity. Near the end of the court was a coffee-stall which took up a position at twelve midnight and removed itself at 7 a.m. At this stall the more affluent and the more Bohemian residents might be found in the neighbourhood of one o’clock. Whitey--he possessed a remarkable knowledge of the metropolis, acquired often under stress of circumstances--came to the stall hopefully, and was not disappointed. With his coat buttoned up to his chin he ordered a modest cup of coffee and took his place in the circle of people that stood at a respectful distance from the brazier of glowing coke. He listened in silence to the gossip of the court; it was fairly innocent gossip, for though there were many in the circle who were acquainted with the inside of his Majesty’s prisons, the talk was not of “business.” Crime was an accident among the poorer type of criminal, such people never achieved the dignity of being concerned in carefully planned coups. Their wrong-doing synchronizes with opportunity, and opportunity that offers a minimum of immediate risk. So the talk was of how So-and-So ought to take something for that cold of his, and how it would pay this or that person to keep a civil tongue in her head. “Old Jim’s got a job.” “Go on.” “Wonderful, ain’t it--he’s got a job....” “See the fire engine to-night?” “No--where?” “Up the High Street, two.” “Where they going?” “New Cut--somewhere.” “What time?”