Then Croupin related how he had retrieved his money from the church, and then with what disfavour and suspicious glances he had been regarded, when in his soiled and shabby clothes, he had gone into a high-class cutlery shop in the West End, and announced that he wanted to buy some of the best razors that they had.
“They looked and looked,” he laughed merrily, “and came and stared as if they thought I was going to steal the door-mat or run off with the counter, until in the end I had to tell them I had won a big prize in the Irish Sweep. Then they were all smiles, and called the manager, and he wanted to sell me lots of other things. It was a great joke and I——”
“Get on,” broke in Larose. “What did you want razors for?”
Croupin smiled tantalisingly, but then becoming painfully aware tha
