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Updated: May 13, 2025
"You go away and come back to-night. It'll be a good game then." "Tha'ss a lie," said Foyle, with an assumption of drunken gravity. "Old Bill Reid he says to me, he says " But Jim had lost the remainder of his small stock of patience.
"Now look here," said I. "What's the matter? You've made appointment after appointment, and kept none of them. Why don't you wish to see me?" Posh shuffled his feet on, the sanded bricks. "Tha'ss like this here, master," said he. "I ha' had enow o' folks a comin' here an' pickin' my brains and runnin' off wi' my letters and never givin' me so much as a sixpence." "Oho!" I thought.
Again the door opened the cautious six inches, and Jim's face was not pleasant to look on as he swore at the disturber. "Tha'ss allri', ol' sport," hiccoughed Foyle. "I want to come in. A Bill Reid tol' me if I wanted hic game I was to come here. You know ol' Bill Reid" this almost pleadingly "he'll tell you I'm allri', eh?" The door-keeper of the gaming-house holds an onerous responsibility.
While thus engaged, Josephine, standing femininely engaged before her glass, chanced to catch sight of her in the mirror. She had swiftly slipped over and opened the door of a wardrobe. Over her arm now was some feminine garment. "What have you there?" demanded Josephine, turning as swiftly. "Jus' some things I'se gwine take away to make room for you, tha'ss all, Ma'am."
Hi! Lor, bor, howiver dew they dew't? Howiver dew they dew't, bor? Tha'ss whoolly a masterpiece! Hi! Billeeoh! Theer they goo agin!" The skipper always ends the story there. He is as brave a man as any on the coast.
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