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That red'eaded chap wot you never see 'e'll lift you up to a window what's got bars to it, and you'll creep through, you being so little, and you'll go soft's a mouse the way I'll show you, and undo the side-door. There's a key and a chain and a bottom bolt. The top bolt's cut through, and all the others is oiled. That won't frighten you, will it?" "No," said Dickie.
"Don't you take on," said Beale comfortably; "I ain't said I'll be in anything yet, 'ave I? Let's 'ear what 'e says in the morning. If 'is lay ain't a safe lay old Beale won't be in it you may lay to that." "Don't let's," said Dickie earnestly. "Look 'ere, father, let us go, both two of us, and sleep in that there old 'ouse of ours. I don't want that red'eaded chap.
Dickie's mug paused in air half-way to his mouth, which remained open. "What's up?" Beale asked, trying to turn on the narrow seat and look up, which he couldn't do. "It's 'im," whispered Dickie, setting down the mug. "That red'eaded chap wot I never see." And then the redheaded man came round the partition and sat down beside Beale and talked to him, and Dickie wished he wouldn't.
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