A CHILD OF THE JAGO
shop, and it was innocent and disappointing. A loo table, four horse-hair-covered chairs, a mirror, three coloured wall-texts, two china figures and a cheap walnut side-board—that was all. The slow step of a policeman without stopped, with a push at the shop-door, to test its fastenings, and then went on; and stronger than ever was the smell of stale pickles.
To try the shop would be mere waste of time. Weech's pocket was the till, and there could be no other prize. A door at the side of the room, latched simply, gave on the stair. "Take auf yer boots," Bill whispered, unlacing his own, and slinging them across his shoulder by the tied laces.
But Josh would not, and he said so, with an oath. Bill could not understand him. Could it be drink? Bill wished him a mile away. "Awright," he whispered, "you set down 'ere w'ile I slip upstairs an' take a peep. I bet the
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