oked hard at Ada.

"Niver a word about it 'ave I breathed to a livin' soul till this day,"
wailed Mrs Yabsley, mopping her eyes with her apron.

"Rye buck!" said Jonah. "'Ere goes! I'll find it, if the blimey house
falls down. Gimme that axe."

The floor-boards cracked and split as he ripped them up. Small beetles
and insects, surprised by the light, scrambled with desperate haste
into safety. A faint, earthy smell rose from the foundations.
Suddenly, with a yell of triumph, Jonah stooped, and picked up a dirty
ball of paper. As he lifted it, a glittering coin fell out.

"W'y, wot's this?" he cried, looking curiously at the wad of
discoloured paper. One side had been chewed to a pulp by something
small and sharp. "Rats an' mice!" cried Jonah.

"They've boned the paper ter make their nests. Every dollar's 'ere, if
we only look."

"Thank Gawd!" said Mrs Yabsley, heaving a tremendous sigh. "Ada, go
an' git a jug o' beer."

In an hour Jonah had recovered twenty-eight of the missing coins; the
remaining two had evidently been dragged down to their nests by the
industrious vermin. Late in the afternoon Jonah, who looked like a
sweep, gave up the search. The kitchen was a wreck. Mrs Yabsley sat
with the coins in her lap, feasting her eyes on this heap of glittering
gold, for she had rubbed each coin till it shone like new. Her peace
of mind was restored, but it was a long time before she could think of
rats and mice without anger.

CHAPTER 9

PADDY'S MARKET

Chook was standing near the entrance to the market where his mates had
promised to meet him, but he found that he had still half an hour to
spare, as he had come down early to mark a pak-ah-pu ticket at the
Chinaman's in Hay Street. So he lit a cigarette and sauntered idly
through the markets to kill time.

The three long, dingy arcades were flooded with the glare from clusters
of naked gas-jets, and the people, wedged in a dense mass, moved slowly
like water in motion between the banks of stalls. From the stone flags
underneath rose a sustained, continuous noise--the leisurely tread and
shuffle of a multitude blending with the deep hum of many voices, and
over it all, like the upper notes in a symphony, the shrill, discordant
cries of the dealers.

Overhead, the light spent its brightness in a gloomy vault, like the
roof of a vast cathedral fallen into decay, its ancient timbers
blackened with the smoke and grime of half a century.