“She bust out sobbing, and it was all I could do to get the godfather’s address out of ’er.  When I think of the trouble I took to get it I come over quite faint.  At last she told me, between ’er sobs, that ’is name was Mr. Kiddem, and that he lived at 27, Bridge Street.

“‘He’s one o’ the kindest-’arted and most generous men that ever lived,’ she ses; ’that’s why my brother Harry ’as gone to ’im.  And you needn’t mind taking anything ‘e likes to give you; he’s rolling in money.’

“I took it a bit easier going to Bridge Street, but the evening seemed ’otter than ever, and by the time I got to the ’ouse I was pretty near done up.  A nice, tidy-looking woman opened the door, but she was a’ most stone deaf, and I ’ad to shout the name pretty near a dozen times afore she ’eard it.

“’He don’t live ‘ere,’ she ses.

“‘’As he moved?’ I ses.  ‘Or wot?’

“She shook her ’cad, and, arter telling me to wait, went in and fetched her ’usband.

“’Never ‘eard of him,’ he ses, ’and we’ve been ’ere seventeen years.  Are you sure it was twenty-seven?’

“‘Sartain,’ I ses.

“’Well, he don’t live ‘ere,’ he ses.  ’Why not try thirty-seven and forty-seven?’

“I tried’em:  thirty-seven was empty, and a pasty-faced chap at forty-seven nearly made ’imself ill over the name of ‘Kiddem.’  It ’adn’t struck me before, but it’s a hard matter to deceive me, and all in a flash it come over me that I ’ad been done agin, and that the gal was as bad as ’er brother.

“I was so done up I could ’ardly crawl back, and my ’ead was all in a maze.  Three or four times I stopped and tried to think, but couldn’t, but at last I got back and dragged myself into the office.

“As I ’arf expected, it was empty.  There was no sign of either the gal or the boy; and I dropped into a chair and tried to think wot it all meant.  Then, ’appening to look out of the winder, I see somebody running up and down the jetty.

“I couldn’t see plain owing to the things in the way, but as soon as I got outside and saw who it was I nearly dropped.  It was the boy, and he was running up and down wringing his ’ands and crying like a wild thing, and, instead o’ running away as soon as ’e saw me, he rushed right up to me and threw ’is grubby little paws round my neck.

“‘Save her!’ ’e ses.  ’Save ‘er!  Help!  Help!’

“’Look ‘ere,’ I ses, shoving ’im off.

“‘She fell overboard,’ he ses, dancing about.  ’Oh, my pore sister!  Quick!  Quick!  I can’t swim!’

“He ran to the side and pointed at the water, which was just about at ’arf-tide.  Then ’e caught ’old of me agin.

“’Make ‘aste,’ he ses, giving me a shove behind.  ’Jump in.  Wot are you waiting for?’

“I stood there for a moment ’arf dazed, looking down at the water.  Then I pulled down a life-belt from the wall ’ere and threw it in, and, arter another moment’s thought, ran back to the Lizzie and Annie, wot was in the inside berth, and gave them a hail.  I’ve always ’ad a good voice, and in a flash the skipper and Ted Sawyer came tumbling up out of the cabin and the ’ands out of the fo’c’sle.