Mick Howell hesitated, surprised at this gesture of hospitality. “Aye, I take that kindly, Mister Short, very kindly. Thankee, sir, if’n you’re certain your lady will not object.”
“Nonsense, she will be delighted. Now, tell me what brings you to Saint Anne’s.”
The man had the airs of a gentleman, though Beadle Hewlett knew he was no better in breeding than himself, and possibly worse. The difference, or so he supposed, was his companion had good looks and the gift of being able to adapt to any situation. He spoke like a toff and dressed like one to the unpractised eye, and lived well somewhere off the Brompton Road.
“You have some new merchandise for us?” said the man, unconsciously glancing about, wary of someone overhearing, though no one was in the vicinity.
“Yeah. Several girls wil
