He took it when the "Pig
and Whistle" was filled to overflowing, and hardly a man who worked at
the factory was not inside it or standing outside near the little quay,
holding the usual evening's confab on the affairs of the day. Cleek
caught hold of Dollops as he was making his way into the little bar.
"Come fer a turn up the road, matey," he said loudly. "It's a fine
evenin' wot mykes yer 'omesick fer a sight uf yer own fireside. 'Ave
another drink later, mebbe. Come on."
Dollops linked arms with him, and, smoking and talking, the two men went
off up the dark lane which led from the quayside, and of a night-time was
as black as a pocket. Cleek's torch showed them the pathway, and as they
walked they talked in rapid whispers.
"Now, lad, let's hear all you've got to say!" he rapped out at length, as
the distance grew between themselves and the crowded little pub, and they
were safely out of earshot.
Dollops gulped with pent-up excitement.
"Lor! sir, there's summink wrong, any'ow; I've discovered that much!" he
broke out enthusiastically.
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