There was a silence, broken only by the fall of the ashes in the grate. An opportunity which the informer improved by smearing himself all over the head and neck and face with his drowned cap, and not at all improving his own appearance.

“What more?” asked Lightwood.

“Of him, d’ye mean, Lawyer Lightwood?”

“Of anything to the purpose.”

“Now, I’m blest if I understand you, Governors Both,” said the informer, in a creeping manner: propitiating both, though only one had spoken. “What? Ain’t that enough?”

“Did you ask him how he did it, where he did it, when he did it?”