Borkins's idea of a
'Lunnon policeman' had pleased him mightily.
CHAPTER XIX
WHAT TOOK PLACE AT "THE PIG AND WHISTLE"
It was a night without a moon. Great gray cloud-banks swamped the sky,
and there was a heavy mist that blurred the outline of tree and fence and
made the broad, flat stretches of the marshes into one impenetrable blot
of inky darkness.
Two men, in ill-fitting corduroys and soiled blue jerseys, their swarthy
necks girt about by vivid handkerchiefs, and their big-peaked caps pulled
well down over their eyes, made their way along the narrow lane that led
from Merriton Towers to Saltfleet Bay. At the junction with Saltfleet
Road, two other figures slipped by them in the half-mist, and after
peering at then from under the screen of dark caps, sang out a husky
"Good-night, mates." They answered in unison, the bigger, broader one
whistling as he swung along, his pace slackening a trifle so that the two
newcomers might pass him and get on into the shadows ahead.
Once they had done so, he ceased his endless, ear-piercing whistle and
turned to his companion, his hand reaching out suddenly and catching the
sleeve nearest him.
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