"I see. My victims, _hein_? You can make leetle jokes too. But why
so ver' serious? I'm not burying you, am I?"

"No. You couldn't. And you're not going to bury Cosgrave. Oh--I
don't want to waste my time and yours making accusations or appealing
to what doesn't exist. I only want to point out to your--your business
instinct that Cosgrave isn't worth burying. He's poor and he's
unlucky. He won't bring you luck or anything else. Much better to let
him go."

"Let 'im go? But I want 'im to go! Yesterday I would not see 'im. I
didn't want to see 'im."

"That was a good reason. It's all rather late in the day, though. Two
months ago Cosgrave came to England with about 3000 pounds. I know,
because he told me. And now that's gone. You know where."

"I make a guess, my friend."

"He bought you presents--outrageous for a man in his position."

"Someone 'ave to buy them," she explained good-humouredly. "I don't
ask about positions. It's not polite."

"Now he's at the end of his tether. He's got to go back to his job.
Last night he came to my rooms for the first time for weeks. He
was--was almost mad. When he first came to England he was very ill.
That does not concern you. But what may concern you is that he has
become dangerous. He threatened to shoot you."