f him double quick. What? Yes, when it
came to asking me to go to Paris with a fighting fellow. Only fancy the
cheek of it! It would help him, he said, with his business. Dirty Ecnop!
I soon shoved him down the Apples-and-pears."

"I haven't understood a word of that last sentence," said Michael.

"Don't you know back-slang and rhyming-slang? Oh, it's grand! Here, I
forgot, there's something I wanted to tell you. Do you remember you was
in here with a fellow who you said his name was Burns?"

"Barnes, you mean, I expect. Yes, he's supposed to be meeting me here
to-night, as a matter of fact."

"Well, you be careful of him. He'll get you into trouble."

Michael looked incredulous.

"It's true as I sit here," said Daisy earnestly. "Come over in the
corner and let's have our drink there. I can't talk here with that
blue-nosed---- behind me, squinting at us across his lager." She looked
round indignantly at the man in question.

They moved across to one of the alcoves, and Daisy leaned over and spoke
quietly and rather tensely, so differently from the usual rollick of her
voice that Michael began to feel a presentiment of dread.

"I was out on the Dilly one night soon after you'd been round to my
place, and I was with a girl called Janie Filson. 'Oo-er,' she said to
me. 'Did you see who that was passed?' I looked round and saw this
fellow Burns."

"Barnes," Michael corrected.

"Oh, well, Barnes. His name doesn't matter, because it isn't his own,
anyway. 'That's Harry Meats,' she said. And she called out after him.
'Hulloa, Harry, where's Cissie?' He went as white as ... oh, he did go
shocking white. He just turned to see who it was had called out after
him, and then he slid up Swallow Street like a bit of paper. 'Who's
Cissie?' I said. 'Don't you remember Cissie Cummings?' she said. 'That
fair girl who always wore a big purple hat and used to be in the
Leicester Lounge and always carried a box of chocolates for swank?' I
did remember the girl when Janie spoke about her. Only I never knew her,
see? 'He wasn't very pleased when you mentioned her,' I said. 'Didn't he
look awful?' said Janie, and just then she got off with a fellow and I
couldn't ask her any more."

"I don't think that's enough to make me very much afraid of Barnes,"
Michael commented.

"Wait a minute, I haven't finished yet. Don't be in such a hurry. The
other day I saw Janie Filson again. She's been away to Italy--is there a
place called Italy?