orn. He 'ad to say it over and over agin afore
they understood 'im, and Walter Bell 'ad to stuff the bedclo'es in 'is
mouth to keep civil.

Peter Gubbins, with 'is arm tied up in a sling, was the fust one to turn
up at the _Cauliflower,_ and he was that down-'arted about it we couldn't
do nothing with 'im. He 'ad expected to be able to pull out ten golden
sovereigns, and the disapp'intment was too much for 'im.

"I wonder 'ow they heard about it," ses Dicky Weed.

"I can tell you," ses Bob Pretty, wot 'ad been sitting up in a corner by
himself, nodding and smiling at Peter, wot wouldn't look at 'im. "A
friend o' mine at Wickham wrote to him about it. He was so disgusted at
the way Bill Chambers and Henery Walker come up 'ere wasting their
'ard-earned money, that he sent 'im a letter, signed 'A Friend of the
Working Man,' telling 'im about it and advising 'im what to do."

"A friend o' yours?" ses John Biggs, staring at 'im. "What for?"

"I don't know," ses Bob; "he's a wunnerful good scholard, and he likes
writin' letters. He's going to write another to-morrer, unless I go over
and stop 'im."

"Another?" ses Peter, who 'ad been tellin' everybody that 'e wouldn't
speak to 'im agin as long as he lived. "Wot about?"

"About the idea that I shot you all," ses Bob. "I want my character
cleared. O' course, they can't prove anything against me--I've got my
witnesses. But, taking one thing with another, I see now that it does
look suspicious, and I don't suppose any of you'll get any more of your
money. Mr. Sutton is so sick o' being laughed at, he'll jump at
anything."

"You dursn't do it, Bob," ses Peter, all of a tremble.

"It ain't me, Peter, old pal," ses Bob, "it's my friend. But I don't
mind stopping 'im for the sake of old times if I get my arf. He'd listen
to me, I feel sure."

At fust Peter said he wouldn't get a farthing out of 'im if his friend
wrote letters till Dooms-day; but by-and-by he thought better of it, and
asked Bob to stay there while he went down to see Sam and Walter about
it. When 'e came back he'd got the fust week's money for Bob Pretty; but
he said he left Walter Bell carrying on like a madman, and, as for Sam
Jones, he was that upset 'e didn't believe he'd last out the night.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Four Pigeons, by W.W. Jacobs

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOUR PIGEONS ***

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