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And I guess you've got it right, Bill," he admitted. "I allow we've done all we can. It's right up to the p'lice." He abruptly turned, and his steady eyes stonily regarded his friend. "He's got to hang for this. Get me? If the law don't fix things that way, I swear before God I'll hunt his trail till I get him cold with my own hands." Bill's reply was a silent nod. He had nothing to add.
"Who is it?" "It's Father Storm. The brutes! The beasts! And the pore dog, too!" "Oh, dear! Where's the p'lice? What are we goin' to do with 'im, Aggie?" "Tyke 'im to my room, thet's what." Then he heard Big Ben strike twelve, and then It was a long, long journey, and the tunnel seemed to go on and on.
He was naturally a combative youth, with a fine contempt for rules that would deny him the advantages to be derived from his ability as a swift and vigorous kicker; so a bloodthirsty and rebellious character was quite to his taste. 'Not crossed in love, though, he complained. 'That seems measley, don't it? S'pose I shot a man once, an' the p'lice won't let me have no peace.
I'll give you just one hour by the clock to get yer stuff together, but mind ya, if ya weaken an' try to put the p'lice onto me, I got a way to signal my pal, an' he'll have that boy o' yours shot within five minutes after you call fer help? Understand? Oh, yes, I know lady, you wouldn't do no such a thing, but my pal he made me say that.
Then entered Warrington, the adjutant, and the servant was dismissed at once. "Bad business," said Warrington, looking thoroughly cheerful. "What now?" "One of Squadron D's men murdered in the bazaar this afternoon. Body's in the morgue in charge of the police. 'Nother man who was with him apparently missing. No explanation, and the p'lice say there aren't any clues."
Thereupon: "Hello! hello!" remarked the occupant drowsily. "Number one p'lice chop lo! Sin Sin Wa Sin Sin...." "Come, my Tling-a-Ling," crooned Sin Sin Wa. He opened the front of the cage and out stepped the raven onto his wrist. Sin Sin Wa raised his arm and Tling-a-Ling settled himself contentedly upon his master's shoulder. Placing the empty cage on the counter.
"The police!" was the answer. Jeff, who had been awakened, heard this answer. He covered his head with the clothes, and cowered down in the bed. "Oh, mah good land!" thought Jeff when he heard this. "De p'lice has done come to git me 'cause I took de China Cat! Oh, good land! I ain't so smart as I thought! Oh, dey's gwine 'rest me suah!" But the police had not come to get Jeff.
He was still on the Police black-books; in spite of their affection for him, he had months of rustling if it was rustling to pay for. "Got to git them two horses somehow," he persisted. "Then we kin start all over agin, you 'n' me. The P'lice can't hev anythin' agin us, when the horses are all back whar they belong." He searched her face anxiously.
But what's Mr Sharp bin inquiring arter?" "Ah wot indeed!" replied Bob; "'ow should I know? Mr Sharp ain't the man to go about the line with a ticket on his back tellin' wot he's arter. By no means. P'lice superintendents ain't usually given to that; but he's arter somethin' partickler." "Well, that ain't no bizzness of ours, Bob, so we don't need to trouble our heads about it.
Whereat the puppy, emboldened by his foe's retreat, advanced savagely to the attack, buzzing round the slippery pail like a wasp on a windowpane, in a vain attempt to reach the old man. Tammas stood on the top, hitching his trousers and looking down on his assailant, the picture of mortal fear. "'Elp! Oh, 'elp!" he bawled. "Send for the sogers! Fetch the p'lice!