woman had been
brought to the Saviour in that parlour by that missionary--the same whom
we have introduced to the reader in the thieves' den. Through the
medium of Tommy Splint the interview was brought about, and no sooner
did Trumps ascertain the object that Dean had in view than he became
suddenly confidential.

"Now, look here," he said, when he found himself alone with Mr Dean, "I
knows more about them Brentwoods and Westons than you think for."

"No doubt you do; and I suppose you wish to sell your knowledge at the
highest possible figure," said Dean, with a very slight smile.

"You're wrong for once," returned Trumps. "If you'd said that to me two
days ago, I'd 'ave said `yes;' but I've 'eard things in this blessed
room w'ich 'as made me change my mind. You're welcome to all I knows
for nothing."

Mr Dean did not believe in sudden conversion, nevertheless he expressed
gratification. Being what the Yankees call 'cute, he avoided anything
like eagerness in gaining information.

"My business here, however," he said, "is to get information about that
Scotsman, you know, and the charge of theft by Mr Lockhart. We believe
Laidlaw to be innocent and, understanding that you think as we do, and
that you know something about him, we hope you may be able to help us."

From this point Mr Dean began to pump and squeeze, and Trumps proved
worthy of his name in the way he submitted to both processes. At last,
when nothing more was to be got Mr Dean said, in a somewhat careless
way, "You are acquainted, I believe, with old Mrs Morley--chimney-pot
Liz, they call her--are you not?"

"Yes, I am. I've known her long. Knew her when I was footman in a
family connected with the Brentwoods."

"Oho!" thought Mr Dean with sudden surprise, for he began to smell more
of his second rat, but he looked stolid; said nothing; did not move a
muscle; merely nodded his head gently as if to say, go on.

"Now I know what you're driving at," continued Trumps, with a very
knowing wink, "an' I'll help you. First place, my name ain't Trumps."

"I know that--it's Rodgers," said the detective.

"Whew! how d'ee know _that_?" exclaimed the thief in extreme surprise.

"We detectives know everything," said Dean.

"Oh! then there's no need for me to tell you anything more," returned
Trumps, _alias_ Rodgers, with a grin.

"Well, I don't know exactly everything," returned Dean; "but I do know--
at least I guess--that you were a footman i