"What's that word?" Bill asked, pointing at the newspaper.
Emily sat in the corner watching the butcher at his work while Amsterdam and Johnny reported their work.
Although she couldn't read very well, Emily had gleaned enough information to know that Amsterdam and his group had stolen a body from a ship and sold it to medical scientists.
"A low thing to do that to a body," McGloin said, "Low."
Emily never much liked McGloin, even in her younger days. He'd been one of the first to turn coat after Priest Vallon died. Emily had always thought of him as a coward since then, but then she supposed he was just trying to stay alive. Rather like herself.
"Why?" Bill asked, "They could've left that ship with nothing. Instead, they made The Police Gazette, a periodical of note."
"A body's supposed to stay beneath the earth wearing a wooden coat until the Resurrection," McGloin declared.
"These two are a pair of bog-eating sons of Irish bitches, same as you, and it don't seem to bother them none," Bill said, "But then maybe they don't share your religious scruples."
"Maybe they're just a couple of Fidlam Bens," McGloin said.
No one spoke for a moment. Then Amsterdam laughed. "I've been called a lot of things, mister, but I ain't never been called…"
"Fidlam Bens," McGloin repeated.
"Fidlam Bens. Right," Amsterdam said, "Well if I knew what in the hell that meant, I'd be inclined to take offense."
Emily chuckled quietly. The butcher smirked at her.
"A Fidlam Bens is a fellow steals anything, dead or alive, because he's too low to work up a decent lay for himself. Count that careful, Bill."
Bill chuckled.
"Now, chiseler. If you'd said 'chiseler,' now there's a word I understand. Now is that what you're calling us?" Amsterdam asked.
"I can think of a number of things to call you, boyo."
"Right. But I asked if you was calling us chiselers," Amsterdam asked shortly.
"Supposing I am?" McGloin asked.
"Well then we got business," Amsterdam replied.
"That we do," McGloin agreed.
Emily sat back in her seat as the fight began. As Amsterdam removed his coat, she thought she caught a glimpse of something. A medal like one her father used to have.
She looked at Amsterdam and suddenly his familiarity made all too much sense. His bright blue eyes were the same that peered out of her own brother's head years ago. He had changed so much in the journey between boy and man that he was barely recognizable. Emily wondered if he remembered her as well, but she dared not ask.
Before Amsterdam and McGloin finished their fight, Emily left the room with Bill's eye following her curiously.