by W. W. Jacobs
inches andlooking out at a man wot was standing there.
"Are you old Bill?" he ses.
"I'm the watchman," I ses, sharp-like. "Wot d'you want?"
"Don't bite me!" he ses, purtending to draw back. "I ain't done no 'arm.I've come round about that glass you smashed at the Bear's Head."
"Glass!" I ses, 'ardly able to speak.
"Yes, glass," he ses--"thing wot yer drink out of. The landlord saysit'll cost you a tanner, and 'e wants it now in case you pass away inyour sleep. He couldn't come 'imself cos he's got nobody to mind thebar, so 'e sent me. Why! Halloa! Where's your boots? Ain't you afraido' ketching cold?"
"You clear off," I ses, shouting at him. "D'ye 'ear me? Clear off whileyou're safe, and you tell the landlord that next time 'e insults me I'llsmash every glass in 'is place and then sit 'im on top of 'cm! Tell 'imif 'e wants a tanner out o' me, to come round 'imself, and see wot hegets."
It was a silly thing to say, and I saw it arterwards, but I was in such atemper I 'ardly knew wot I was saying. I slammed the wicket in 'is faceand turned the key and then I took off my clothes and went down thatladder agin.
It seemed colder than ever, and the mud when I got fairly into it wasworse than I thought it could ha' been. It stuck to me like glue, andevery step I took seemed colder than the one before. 'Owever, when Imake up my mind to do a thing, I do it. I fixed my eyes on the placewhere I thought the purse was, and every time I felt anything under myfoot I reached down and picked it up--and then chucked it away as far asI could so as not to pick it up agin. Dirty job it was, too, and in fiveminutes I was mud up to the neck, a'most. And I 'ad just got to wot Ithought was the right place, and feeling about very careful, when thebell rang agin.
I thought I should ha' gorn out o' my mind. It was just a little tinkleat first, then another tinkle, but, as I stood there all in the dark andcold trying to make up my mind to take no notice of it, it began to ringlike mad. I 'ad to go--I've known men climb over the gate afore now--andI didn't want to be caught in that dock.
The mud seemed stickier than ever, but I got out at last, and, arterscraping some of it off with a bit o' stick, I put on my coat andtrousers and boots just as I was and went to the gate, with the bellgoing its 'ardest all the time.
When I opened the gate and see the landlord of the Bear's Head standingthere I turned quite dizzy, and there was a noise in my ears like theroaring of the sea. I should think I stood there for a couple o' minuteswithout being able to say a word. I could think of 'em.
"Don't be frightened, Bill," ses the landlord. "I'm not going to eatyou."
"He looks as if he's walking in 'is sleep," ses the fat policeman, wotwas standing near by. "Don't startle 'im."
"He always looks like that," ses the landlord.
I stood looking at 'im. I could speak then, but I couldn't think of anywords good enough; not with a policeman standing by with a notebook in'is pocket.
"Wot was you ringing my bell for?" I ses, at last.
"Why didn't you answer it before?" ses the landlord. "D'you think I'vegot nothing better to do than to stand ringing your bell for three-quarters of an hour? Some people would report you."
"I know my dooty," I ses; "there's no craft up to-night, and no reasonfor anybody to come to my bell. If I was to open the gate every time aparcel of overgrown boys rang my bell I should 'ave enough to do."
"Well, I'll overlook it this time, seeing as you're an old man andcouldn't get another sleeping-in job," he ses, looking at the policemanfor him to see 'ow clever 'e was. "Wot about that tanner? That's wotI've come for."
"You be off," I ses, starting to shut the wicket. "You won't get notanner out of me."
"All right," he ses, "I shall stand here and go on ringing the bell tillyou pay up, that's all."
He gave it another tug, and the policeman instead of locking 'im up forit stood there laughing.
I gave 'im the tanner. It was no use standing there arguing over atanner, with a purse of twelve quid waiting for me in the dock, but Itold 'im wot people thought of 'im.
"Arf a second, watchman," ses the policeman, as I started to shut thewicket agin. "You didn't see anything of that pickpocket, did you?"
"I did not," I ses.
"'Cos this gentleman thought he might 'ave come in here," ses thepoliceman.
"'Ow could he 'ave come in here without me knowing it?" I ses, firingup.
"Easy," ses the landlord, "and stole your boots into the bargain"
"He might 'ave come when your back was turned," ses the policeman, "andif so, he might be 'iding there now. I wonder whether you'd mind mehaving a look round?"
"I tell you he ain't 'ere," I ses, very short, "but, to ease your mind,I'll 'ave a look round myself arter you've gorn."
The policeman shook his 'ead. "Well, o' course, I can't come in withoutyour permission," he ses, with a little cough, "but I 'ave an idea, thatif it was your guv'nor 'ere instead of you he'd ha' been on'y too pleasedto do anything 'e could to help the law. I'll beg his pardon tomorrowfor asking you, in case he might object."
That settled it. That's the police all over, and that's 'ow they gettheir way and do as they like. I could see 'im in my mind's eye talkingto the guv'nor, and letting out little things about broken glasses andsuch-like by accident. I drew back to let 'im pass, and I was so upsetthat when that little rat of a landlord follered 'im I didn't say a word.
I stood and watched them poking and prying about the wharf as if itbelonged to 'em, with the light from the policeman's lantern flashingabout all over the place. I was shivering with cold and temper. The mudwas drying on me.
"If you've finished 'unting for the pickpocket I'll let you out and geton with my work," I ses, drawing myself up.
"Good night," ses the policeman, moving off. "Good night, dear," ses thelandlord. "Mind you tuck yourself up warm."
I lost my temper for the moment and afore I knew wot I was doing I 'adgot hold of him and was shoving 'im towards the gate as 'ard as I couldshove. He pretty near got my coat off in the struggle, and next momentthe police-man 'ad turned his lantern on me and they was both staring atme as if they couldn't believe their eyesight.
"He--he's turning black!" ses the landlord.
"He's turned black!" ses the policeman.
They both stood there looking at me with their mouths open, and thenafore I knew wot he was up to, the policeman came close up to me andscratched my chest with his finger-nail.
"It's mud!" he ses.
"You keep your nails to yourself," I ses. "It's nothing to do with you."and I couldn't 'elp noticing the smell of it. Nobody could. And wot wasworse than all was, that the tide 'ad turned and was creeping over themud in the dock.
They got tired of it at last and came back to where I was and stood thereshaking their 'eads at me.
"If he was on the wharf 'e must 'ave made his escape while you was in theBear's Head," ses the policeman.
"He was in my place a long time," ses the landlord.
"Well, it's no use crying over spilt milk," ses the policeman. "Funnysmell about 'ere, ain't there?" he ses, sniffing, and turning to thelandlord. "Wot is it?"
"I dunno," ses the landlord. "I noticed it while we was talking to 'imat the gate. It seems to foller 'im about."
"I've smelt things I like better," ses the policeman, sniffing agin."It's just like the foreshore when somebody 'as been stirring the mud upa bit."
"Unless it's a case of 'tempted suicide," he ses, looking at me very'ard.
"Ah!" ses the landlord.
"There's no mud on 'is clothes," ses the policeman, looking me over withhis lantern agin.
"He must 'ave gone in naked, but I should like to see 'is legs to make--All right! All right! Keep your 'air on."
"You look arter your own legs, then," I ses, very sharp, "and mind yourown business."
"It is my business," he ses, turning to the landlord. "Was 'e strange inhis manner at all when
