'imself, and stood there making nasty
remarks while he messed 'imself up with a penn'orth of cold cream. It
was a cheap belt, and pore Ginger said that, when they 'ad done with it,
it would come in handy for sand-paper.

Peter didn't like it any better than the other two did, and twice they
'ad to speak to 'im about stopping in the street and trying to make
'imself more comfortable by wriggling. Sam said people misunderstood it.

Arter that they agreed to wear it outside their shirt, and even then
Ginger said it scratched 'im. And every day they got more and more
worried about wot was the best thing to do with the locket, and whether
it would be safe to try and sell it. The idea o' walking about with a
fortune in their pockets that they couldn't spend a'most drove 'em crazy.

"The longer we keep it, the safer it'll be," ses Sam, as they was walking
down Hounds-ditch one day.

"We'll sell it when I'm sixty," ses Ginger, nasty-like.

"Then old Sam won't be 'ere to have 'is share," ses Peter.

Sam was just going to answer 'em back, when he stopped and began to smile
instead. Straight in front of 'im was the gentleman he 'ad met in the
coffee-shop, coming along with another man, and he just 'ad time to see
that it was the docker who 'ad sold him the locket, when they both saw
'im. They turned like a flash, and, afore Sam could get 'is breath,
bolted up a little alley and disappeared.

"Wot's the row?" ses Ginger, staring.

Sam didn't answer 'im. He stood there struck all of a heap.

"Do you know 'em?" ses Peter.

Sam couldn't answer 'im for a time. He was doing a bit of 'ard thinking.

"Chap I 'ad a row with the other night," he ses, at last.

He walked on very thoughtful, and the more 'e thought, the less 'e liked
it. He was so pale that Ginger thought 'e was ill and advised 'im to
'ave a drop o' brandy. Peter recommended rum, so to please 'em he 'ad
both. It brought 'is colour back, but not 'is cheerfulness.

He gave 'em both the slip next morning; which was easy, as Ginger was
wearing the locket, and, arter fust 'aving a long ride for nothing owing
to getting in the wrong train, he got to Barnet.

It was a big place; big enough to 'ave a dozen Orange Villas, but pore
Sam couldn't find one. It wasn't for want of trying neither.

He asked at over twenty shops, and the post-office, and even went to the
police-station. He must ha' walked six or seven miles looking for it,
and at last, 'arf read