There was a long and somewhat awkward silence between the two. Philip was debating in his mind as to how much to tell the Shady ’un, and how much to leave unsaid. The Shady ’un, for his part, having heard gathering rumours of that business in the wood, eyed his companion somewhat stealthily, and worked out a plan of action in his own fertile brain. He broke silence at last, by coming at the matter in what he thought a highly diplomatic manner. “Beastly noosance—gels,” he said—staring hard before him. “What do you mean?” asked Philip, glancing at him in some perplexity. The Shady ’un drew a deep breath, and shook his head. “There you go!” he exclaimed, with considerable disgust. “No confidence—no trust—no confidin’ spirit about yer! Didn’t I say, a week ago, as you might come ter the Shady ’un, wiv a open ’eart an’ ’and; that ’e was the friend, if ever the Count should fail yer! Strike me pink!” cried the Shady ’un, with much earnestness—“did I say them words—or did I not?” “I believe you said something of the kind,” replied Philip, after a moment’s pause. “’Course I did,” said the Shady ’un, energetically. “An’ wot I said I sticks to. They calls me the Shady ’un; but I was c’ristened ‘Shadrach’—an’ ’ad a faver of the name of Nottidge. The Shady ’un may not be all as ’e should be; but Shadrach Nottidge is a pal, an’ a friend. Dandy, my boy—there’s ’emp-seed sowed for you—an’ well you knows it.” Philip glanced round at him quickly, but said nothing. The Shady ’un drank some beer slowly, looking over the top of the tankard, and winked one eye with much solemnity. Setting down the beer, he ventured to lay one hand on Philip’s arm. “Yer ain’t treated me quite fair, Dandy—but I bears no malice,” he said, in the same hoarse whisper as before. “I ’ave bin chivvied by a pal o’ yourn—I ’ave bin knocked into a shop by that same pal—I ’ave ’ad a many things done wot ain’t strictly on the square. But I bears no malice, an’ I’m ready to ’elp yer.” There seemed so much sincerity about the man, and Philip was so desperately in need of assistance at that time, that he resolved to confide in him. After all, he thought, the man knew the worst, and knew in how many other shady transactions Dandy Chater had been mixed up; to confirm his friendship would perhaps, after all, be a matter of policy. “Well, then—understand this,” he said abruptly—“I’m flying for my life. There’s a warrant out against me for murder——” The Shady ’un nodded comfortably. “I know—I know,” he said; “young gel—very much in the way—you ’its ’er a clump—say by axerdent. She don’t like it—an’ just to spite yer—goes dead. Lor’—that ain’t nuffink; might ’appen to a man any day. But I suppose the splits is out—an’ Dandy must make ’isself scarce?” “Yes—that’s about it,” replied Philip.