Narkom gripped his hand, he put his head into the carriage again.
"My love to Ailsa if you see her, and tell her all goes well with me,
like a good friend!" whispered Cleek, softly.
Mr. Narkom nodded, waved his hand, and then the two navvies swung away
from the train, gave up their tickets to the porter--having procured
third-class as well as first for just this very arrangement--and after
enquiring just how far it was to Saltfleet Bay, and learning that it was
a matter of "two mile and a 'arf by road, and a couple o' mile by the
fields," strode off through the little gate and on to the highroad. Just
how adventurous their quest was going to turn out to be even they did not
fully realize.
They reached the outskirts of the bay, just as a clock in the church
tower half a mile away struck out nine, in deep-throated, sonorous tones.
To the right of them the "Pig and Whistle" flaunted its lights and its
noise, its hilarious laughter and its coarse-thrown jests. Cleek sighed
as he turned toward it.
"Now for it, boy," he said softly, and then started to whistle and to
laugh alternately, making his way across the cobbles to the brightly-lit
little pub.
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