And a devilish
long walk, too, I reckon! But that's by the way. Your name's Sam--Sam
Robinson. Mine--Bill Jones.... Our friends are ahead of us. Come along."
Whistling, they swung up to the brightly lit little public-house, set
there upon the edge of the bay. Here and there over the unruffled surface
of the waters to the left of them, a light pricked out, glowing against
the gloom. Black against the mouth of the harbour, as though etched upon
a smoky background, a steamer swayed uneasily with the swell of the water
at her keel, her nose touching the pier-head, a chain of lights outlining
her cumbersome hulk. Men's voices made the night noisy, and numerous feet
scuttled to and fro over the cobbles of the dockyard to where a handful
of fishing boats were drawn up, only their masts showing above the
landing, with here and there a ghostly wraith of sail.
Cleek paused a moment, drinking in the scene with his love of beauty, and
then assumed his role of the evening. And how well he could play any role
he chose!
He cleared his throat, and addressed his companion in broad cockney.
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