The faces I keeps 'ere," and he tapped his
placid forehead, "the names I keeps 'ere," and he tapped the little
book. "It's my trade d' ye see, and though there's better trades,
still there's trades as is vorse, an' that's summat, ain't it?"
"And what might your trade be?" inquired Barnabas, as they walked on
together along the narrow alley.
"Veil, sir, I'm vot they calls a bashaw of the pigs--but I'm more
than that."
"Pray," said Barnabas, "what do you mean?" For answer the man smiled,
and half drew from his pocket a short staff surmounted by a crown.
"Ah!" said Barnabas, "a Bow Street Runner?"
"And my name is Shrig, sir, Jasper Shrig. You'll have heard it afore,
o'course."
"No!" said Barnabas. Mr. Shrig seemed placidly surprised, and vented
a gentle sigh.
"It's pretty vell known, in London, sir, though it ain't a pretty
name, I'll allow. Ye-es, I've 'eard prettier, but then it's better
than a good many, and that's sum-mat, ain't it? And then, as I said
afore, it's pretty vell known."
"How so?"
"Vell, sir, there be some as 'as a leanin' to one branch o' the
profession, and some to another,--now mine's murders.
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