Reckon the chap's employed there, as, from a casual chat
wiv a sailorin' Johnny in the bar parlour of the 'Pig and Whistle', where
I wuz a-linin' of me empty stummick (detectin' is that 'ungry work, sir!)
wiv a sossage an' a pint o' four-and-er-'arf, this feller tells me that
pretty near everyone around here works there. I arsked 'im wot they did,
an' 'e says, 'Make boats an' fings, with now an' agin a little flurry in
shippin' ter break the monotony.'... Anyway, I traced the devil wot
nearly got _you_, Guv'nor, and _that's_ somefing. And if I don't give 'im
a taste of the 'appy 'ereafter, well, my name's not Dollops."
Cleek laughed and laid a hand upon the lad's shoulder.
"You've done a lot toward unravelling the mystery, Dollops, my lad,"
he said. "A regular right-hand man you are, eh, Mr. Narkom? This
evening we'll hie us to the Saltfleet Road and see what further the 'Pig
and Whistle' can reveal to us. It'll be like the old times of the
'Twisted-Arm' days, boy, where every second held its own unknown and
certain danger.
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