The deed as all London is a-talking of,--the
murder o' Jasper Gaunt, the money-lender."
"Ah!" said Barnabas thoughtfully. "And so you are quite sure that
I--didn't murder Jasper Gaunt, are you. Mr. Shrig?"
"Quite--oh, Lord love you, yes!"
"And why?"
"Because," said Mr. Shrig with his guileless smile, and puffing out
a cloud of smoke and watching it vanish ceilingwards, "because I
'appen to know 'oo did."
"Oh!" said Barnabas more thoughtfully than ever. "And who do you
think it is?"
"Vell, sir," answered Mr. Shrig ponderously, "from conclusions as
I've drawed I don't feel at liberty to name no names nor yet cast no
insinivations, but--v'en the other traps (sich werry smart coves too!)
'ave been and gone an' arrested all the innercent parties in London,
v'y then I shall put my castor on my napper, and take my tickler in
my fib and go and lay my 'ooks on the guilty party."
"And when will that be?"
"Jest so soon as my leg sarves me, sir,--say a veek,--say, two."
"You're in no hurry then?"
"Lord, no, sir, I'm never in an 'urry."
"And you say you think you know who the murderer is?"
"V-y no, sir,--from conclusions as I've drawed I'm sure and sartin
'oo did the deed.
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