“My opinion is,” he ses, “that ’e bolted on one of the wharves and ’id ‘imself.  He disappeared like magic.  Was that little gate o’ yours open?”

“I was on the wharf,” I ses, very cold.

“You might ha’ been on the wharf and yet not ’ave seen anybody come on,” he ses, nodding.

“Wot d’ye mean?” I ses, very sharp.  “Nothing,” he ses.  “Nothing.”

“Are you trying to take my character away?” I ses, fixing ’im with my eye.

“Lo’ bless me, no!” he ses, staring at me.  “It’s no good to me.”

He sat down in ’is chair behind the bar and went straight off to sleep with his eyes screwed up as tight as they would go.  Then ’e opened his mouth and snored till the glasses shook.  I suppose I’ve been one of the best customers he ever ’ad, and that’s the way he treated me.  For two pins I’d ha’ knocked ’is ugly ’ead off, but arter waking him up very sudden by dropping my glass on the floor I went off back to the wharf.

I locked up agin, and ’ad another look at the dock.  The water ’ad nearly gone and the mud was showing in patches.  My mind went back to a sailorman wot had dropped ’is watch over-board two years before, and found it by walking about in the dock in ’is bare feet.  He found it more easy because the glass broke when he trod on it.

The evening was a trifle chilly for June, but I’ve been used to roughing it all my life, especially when I was afloat, and I went into the office and began to take my clothes off.  I took off everything but my pants, and I made sure o’ them by making braces for ’em out of a bit of string.  Then I turned the gas low, and, arter slipping on my boots, went outside.

It was so cold that at fust I thought I’d give up the idea.  The longer I stood on the edge looking at the mud the colder it looked, but at last I turned round and went slowly down the ladder.  I waited a moment at the bottom, and was just going to step off when I remembered that I ’ad got my boots on, and I ’ad to go up agin and take ’em off.

I went down very slow the next time, and anybody who ’as been down an iron ladder with thin, cold rungs, in their bare feet, will know why, and I had just dipped my left foot in, when the wharf-bell rang.

I ’oped at fust that it was a runaway-ring, but it kept on, and the longer it kept on, the worse it got.  I went up that ladder agin and called out that I was coming, and then I went into the office and just slipped on my coat and trousers and went to the gate.

“Wot d’you want?” I ses, opening the wicket three or four inches and looking out at a man wot was standing there.

“Are you old Bill?” he ses.

“I’m the watchman,” I ses, sharp-like.  “Wot d’you want?”

“Don’t bite me!” he ses, purtending to draw back.  “I ain’t done no ’arm.  I’ve come round about that glass you smashed at the Bear’s Head.”

“Glass!” I ses, ’ardly able to speak.