Shrig, sighing and shaking his head again,
"things is allus blackest afore the dawn, sir, and--'twixt you and
me,--I'm 'oping to bring off a nice little murder case afore long--"
"Hoping?"
"Veil--let's say--expecting, sir. Quite a bang up affair it'll be
too,--nobs, all on 'em, and there's three on 'em concerned. I'll call
the murderer Number Vun, Number Two is the accessory afore the fact,
and Number Three is the unfort'nate wictim. Now sir, from private
obserwation, the deed is doo to be brought off any time in the next
three veeks, and as soon as it's done, v'y then I lays my right 'and
on Number Vun, and my left 'and on Number Two, and--"
"But--what about Number Three?" inquired Barnabas.
Mr. Shrig paused, glanced at Barnabas, and scratched his ear,
thoughtfully.
"V'y sir," said he at last, "Number Three vill be a corp."
"A what?" said Barnabas.
"A corp, sir--a stiff--"
"Do you mean--dead?"
"Ah,--I mean werry much so!" nodded Mr. Shrig.
"Number Three vill be stone cold,--somev'eres in the country it'll
'appen, I fancy,--say in a vood! And the leaves'll keep a-fluttering
over 'im, and the birds'll keep a-singing to 'im,--oh, Number
Three'll be comfortable enough,--'e von't 'ave to vorry about
nothink no more, it'll be Number Vun and Number Two as'll do the
vorrying, and me--till I gets my 'ooks on 'em, and then--"
"But," said Barnabas earnestly, "why not try to prevent it?"
"Prewent it, sir?" said Mr.
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