“Happen I won’t!” retorted Cleek, with a loud guffaw.

“S’welp me, you chaps, ain’t none uv you a-goin’ ter lend a ’and to a mate wot’s out uv a job?  What’s the blooming mystery?  An’ where’s the bloomin’ boss?”

“Better see ’im in the mawning,” supplemented Black Whiskers, truculently.  “He’s busy now.  Works all night sometimes, ’e does.  But there’s a vacancy or two, I know, for factory ’ands.  Bin a bit of riotin’ an’ splittin’ uv state secrets.  But the fellers wot did it are gorn now”—­he laughed a trifle grimly—­“won’t never come troublin’ ’ere again.  Pretty strict, marster is.  But good work and good pay.”

“And yer carnt arsk fer more, that’s wot I ses!” threw in Dollops in his shrill voice.

Now Cleek, all this time, had been edging more and more in the direction of Borkins and his sinister companion who were standing a little apart, but nevertheless were interested spectators of all that went on.

Having at last obtained his object, he cast about for a subject of conversation and picked the barmaid whose rallies met with the approval of the entire company, and who was at that moment carrying on a spirited give-and-take conversation with the redoubtable Dollops.

“Bit of a sport, ain’t she, guv’nor?” Cleek remarked to Borkins, with a jerk of his head in the woman’s direction.  The butler whirled round and fixed him with a stare of haughty indignation.

“Here, you keep your fingers off your betters!” he retorted angrily, for Cleek had dug a friendly elbow into his ribs.

“Oh, orl right!  No offence meant!  Thought perhaps you wuz the boss, by the look of yer.  But doubtless you ain’t nuffink ter do wiv the factory at all.  Private gent, I take it.”

“Then you take it wrong!” retorted Borkins, sharply.  “And I have something ter do with the factory, if you wants ter know.  Like ter show your good manners, I might be able to get you a job—­an’ one for the little ’un as well, though I don’t care for Londoners as a rule.  There’s another of ’em up at the place where I lives.  I’m ’ead butler to Sir Nigel Merriton of Merriton Towers, if you’re anxious to know who I am.”  His chest swelled visibly.  “In private I dabbles a little in—­other things.  And I’ve influence.  You men can keep your mouths shut?”

“Dumb as a blinkin’ dorg!” threw in Dollops, who was close by Cleek’s side, and both men nodded vigorously.

“Well, then, I’ll see what I can do.  Mind you, I don’t promise nothink.  I’ll think it hover.  Better come to me to-morrow.  Make it in the evening for there’s a h’inquest up at the Towers.  My master’s been copped for murderin’ his friend, and I’ll ’ave to be about, then.  Ow’ll to-morrow evening suit?”

Cleek drew a long breath and put out his hand.  Then, as if recalling the superior station of the man he addressed, withdrew it again and remarked:  “You’re a real gent, you are!  Any one’d know you was wot they calls well-connected.  Ter-morrow it is, then.  We’ll be ’ere and grateful for yer ’elp....  Wot’s this abaht a murder?  Fight was it?  I’m ’appy at that sort of thing myself.”