FullReads

I thought I should ha’ gorn out o’ my mind. It was just a little tinkle at first, then another tinkle, but, as I stood there all in the dark and cold trying to make up my mind to take no notice of it, it began to ring like mad. I ‘ad to go–I’ve known men climb over the gate afore now–and I didn’t want to be caught in that dock.

The mud seemed stickier than ever, but I got out at last, and, arter scraping some of it off with a bit o’ stick, I put on my coat and trousers and boots just as I was and went to the gate, with the bell going its ‘ardest all the time.

When I opened the gate and see the landlord of the Bear’s Head standing there I turned quite dizzy, and there was a noise in my ears like the roaring of the sea. I should think I stood there for a couple o’ minutes without being able to say a word. I could think of ’em.

“Don’t be frightened, Bill,” ses the landlord. “I’m not going to eat you.”

“He looks as if he’s walking in ‘is sleep,” ses the fat policeman, wot was 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 any words 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’ve got 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 reason for anybody to come to my bell. If I was to open the gate every time a parcel 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 and couldn’t get another sleeping-in job,” he ses, looking at the policeman for him to see ‘ow clever ‘e was. “Wot about that tanner? That’s wot I’ve come for.”

“You be off,” I ses, starting to shut the wicket. “You won’t get no tanner out of me.”

“All right,” he ses, “I shall stand here and go on ringing the bell till you pay up, that’s all.”

He gave it another tug, and the policeman instead of locking ‘im up for it stood there laughing.

I gave ‘im the tanner. It was no use standing there arguing over a tanner, with a purse of twelve quid waiting for me in the dock, but I told ‘im wot people thought of ‘im.

“Arf a second, watchman,” ses the policeman, as I started to shut the wicket 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 the policeman.

“‘Ow could he ‘ave come in here without me knowing it?” I ses, firing up.

“Easy,” ses the landlord, “and stole your boots into the bargain”

“He might ‘ave come when your back was turned,” ses the policeman, “and if so, he might be ‘iding there now. I wonder whether you’d mind me having 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 without your permission,” he ses, with a little cough, “but I ‘ave an idea, that if it was your guv’nor ‘ere instead of you he’d ha’ been on’y too pleased to do anything ‘e could to help the law. I’ll beg his pardon tomorrow for asking you, in case he might object.”

That settled it. That’s the police all over, and that’s ‘ow they get their way and do as they like. I could see ‘im in my mind’s eye talking to the guv’nor, and letting out little things about broken glasses and such-like by accident. I drew back to let ‘im pass, and I was so upset that when that little rat of a landlord follered ‘im I didn’t say a word.