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Pearce was asking only yesterday when you was going back to sea agin," ses his uncle, looking at 'im. "Oh!" ses Alf. "She's took a dislike to you, I think," ses the old man. "It's very 'ard, my fav'rite nephew, and the only one I've got. I forgot to tell you the other day that her fust 'usband, Charlie Pearce, 'ad a kind of a wart on 'is left ear. She's often spoke to me about it."
"Don't tell me as that cat's found, Joe," ses Bob Pretty, as Joe opened the door. "Not as I've 'eard of," said Joe, stepping inside. "I wanted to speak to you about it; the sooner it's found the better I shall be pleased." "It does you credit, Joe Clark," ses Bob Pretty. "It's my belief that it's dead," ses Joe, looking at 'im very 'ard; "but I want to make sure afore taking over the property."
Anybody 'ud have a 'ard time of it to deceive you; and then they wouldn't gain nothing by it." "Nobody ever 'as yet," ses Sam, smiling at 'im. "And nobody ever will," ses the dark man, shaking his 'cad; "if they was all as fly as you, I might as well put the shutters up. How did you twig I was a detective officer, cap'n?" Sam, wot was taking a drink, got some beer up 'is nose with surprise.
Joe Barlcomb thanked 'er, and with the bottle in 'is pocket went off to the Cauliflower, whistling. Bill Jones was there, and Peter Lamb, and two or three more of 'em, and at fust they said some pretty 'ard things to him about being woke up in the night. "Don't bear malice, Bill," ses Joe Barlcomb; "'ave a pint with me."
"Miss Vancourt ain't been to church once till now," said Adam, "An' she's only comin' now to show it to her friends. I doesn't want to think 'ard of her, for she's a sweet-looking little lady an' a kind one an' my Ipsie just worships 'er, an' what my baby likes I'm bound to like too but I do 'ope she ain't a 'eathen, an' that once comin' to church means comin' again, an' reg'lar ever arterwards.
"Come along, Joe," said the latter, "it's your turn to go along with us to drill." "It's 'ard work to 'ave to go playin' at fires doorin' the day, an' puttin' of 'em out doorin' the night, Joe; ain't it?" said Bob Clazie. "So 'tis Bob, but it must be done, you know. Duty first, pleasure afterwards," replied Joe, with a laugh.
"That'll do, Mar," interrupted the filial Sellars, tartly. "I was only going to say, my dear " "We all know what you was going to say, Mar," retorted Miss Sellars. "We've heard it before, and it isn't interesting." Mrs. Sellars relapsed into silence. "'Ard work and plenty of it keeps you thin enough, I notice," remarked the lank young man, with bitterness. To him I was now introduced, he being Mr.
"To your family?" "Yes, the Latches were once big swells; in the time of my great-grandfather the Barfields could not hold their heads as high as the Latches. My great-grandfather had a pot of money, but it all went." "Racing?" "A good bit, I've no doubt. A rare 'ard liver, cock-fighting, 'unting, 'orse-racing from one year's end to the other.
Then off goes a barker and off go the coves, and there's m'lud 'olding onto 'is harm and swearing 'eavens 'ard. And that's all, sir." "And these men were trying to get at the horses?" "Ah! Meant to nobble 'Moonraker, they did, 'im bein' one o' the favorites, d' ye see, sir, and it looked to me as if they meant to do for your 'oss, 'The Terror', as well." "And is the Viscount much hurt?"
To think 'ow 'ard a man's got to work 'fore he earns five of 'em!" But her imagination centered upon Gray Michael now, and she almost forgot the banknotes for a moment. She thought of his agony and trembled for the result. He might strike Joan down and kill her. The man's anger against evil-doers was always a terrific thing; and he had no idea of the value of money.
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