"No, noways--never!" reverberated Goldshed, in deep, metallic tones. "But, Levi, there, must look an inch or two before his noshe--and sho must I--and sho, my very good friend, Mr. Larkin, must _you_--a bit before your noshe. I don't see no great danger. We all know, the Honourable Arthur Verney is _dead_. We are _sure_ of _that_--and all the rest is not worth the odd ha'pensh in that book," and he touched the mighty ledger lying by him, in which millions were entered. "The _rest_ is Dingwell's affair." "Just so, Mr. Goldshed," acquiesced Mr. Larkin. "We go together in that view." "Dingwell be blowed!--what need _we_ care for Dingwell?" tolled out Mr. Goldshed, with his ringing bass. "Ba-ah!--drat him!" echoed the junior. "Yes--a--quite as you say--but where's the good of imprecation? With _that_ exception, I quite go with you. It's Dingwell's affair--not _ours_. _We_, of course, go straight--and _I_ certainly have no reason to suspect Dingwell of anything crooked or unworthy." "Oh, no--ba-ah!--_nothing_!" said Levi. "Nor I," added Goldshed. "It'sh delicate--it _izh_ delicate--but very promishing," said Mr. Goldshed, who was moistening a cigar in his great lips. "Very--and _no_-thing crooked about it." "No-thing crooked--_no_!" repeated Mr. Levi, shaking his glossy curls slowly. "But very delicate." "Then, gentlemen, it's understood--I'm at liberty to assume--that Mr. Dingwell finds one or other of you here whenever he calls after dark, and you'll arrange at once about the little payments." To which the firm having promptly assented, Mr. Larkin took his leave, and, being a client of consideration, was accompanied to the shabby doorstep by Mr. Levi, who, standing at the hall-door, with his hands in his pockets, nodded slily to him across the flagged court-yard, into the cab window, in a way which Mr. Jos. Larkin of the Lodge thought by many degrees too familiar. "Well--_there's_ a cove!" said Mr. Levi, laughing lazily, and showing his long rows of ivory fangs, as he pointed over his shoulder, with the point of his thumb, towards the street. "Rum un!" said Mr. Goldshed, laughing likewise, as he held his lighted cigar between his fingers. And they laughed together tranquilly for a little, till, with a sudden access of gravity, Mr. Goldshed observed, with a little wag of his head-- "He's da-a-am clever!" "Ay--yes--da-a-am clever!" echoed Levi. "Not as much green as you'd put your finger on--I tell you--no muff--devilish good lay, as _you_ shall see," continued Goldshed. "Devilish good--no, no muff--nothing green," repeated Mr. Levi, lighting his cigar. "Good head for speculation--might be a bit too clever, I'm thinking," and he winked gently at his governor. "Believe you, my son, if we'd let him--but we won't--will we?" drawled Mr. Goldshed, jocosely. "Not if I knows it," said Mr. Levi, sitting on the table, with his feet on the stool, and smoking towards the wall. CHAPTER VI. MR. DINGWELL ARRIVES.