“I got a ride part o’ the way from Commercial Road to Aldgate by getting on the wrong bus, but it wasn’t much good, and I was quite tired by the time I got back to the wharf.  I waited outside for a minute or two to get my wind back agin, and then I went in-boiling.

“You might ha’ knocked me down with a feather, as the saying is, and I just stood inside the office speechless.  The boy ’ad disappeared and sitting on the floor where I ’ad left ’im was a very nice-looking gal of about eighteen, with short ’air, and a white blouse.

“‘Good evening, sir,’ she ses, jumping up and giving me a pretty little frightened look.  ’I’m so sorry that my brother has been deceiving you.  He’s a bad, wicked, ungrateful boy.  The idea of telling you that Mr. Watson was ’is father!  Have you been there?  I do ’ope you’re not tired.’

“‘Where is he?’ I ses.

“‘He’s gorn,’ she ses, shaking her ’ead.  ’I begged and prayed of ’im to stop, but ’e wouldn’t.  He said ’e thought you might be offended with ’im.  “Give my love to old Roley-Poley, and tell him I don’t trust ’im,” he ses.’

“She stood there looking so scared that I didn’t know wot to say.  By and by she took out ’er little pocket-’ankercher and began to cry—­

“’Oh, get ‘im back,’ she ses.  ’Don’t let it be said I follered ’im ’ere all the way for nothing.  Have another try.  For my sake!’

“’’Ow can I get ‘im back when I don’t know where he’s gorn?’ I ses.

“’He-he’s gorn to ‘is godfather,’ she ses, dabbing her eyes.  ’I promised ‘im not to tell anybody; but I don’t know wot to do for the best.’

“’Well, p’r’aps his godfather will ’old on to ‘im,’ I ses.

“’He won’t tell ‘im anything about going to sea,’ she ses, shaking ’er little head.  ’He’s just gorn to try and bo—­bo-borrow some money to go away with.’

“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?’