fist of this, by
reason of the officer letting his gang get out of hand at the start;
and by their gait 'twas pretty plain they had collared a plenty of
liquor up the street. But while Hancock peeped out, taking stock of
them, a nasty monkey-notion crept into his head, and took hold of all
his spiteful little nature; and says he, pushing the door a bit wider
as the small officer--he was little taller than a midshipman--came
swearing by:

"Beg your pardon, Sir!"

"You'd best take in your head and close the door upon it," snaps the
little officer. "These fools o' mine have got their shirts out, and
are liable to make mistakes to-night."

"What, _me?_--a poor tailor with a hackin' cough!" But to himself:
"So much the better," he says, and up he speaks again. "Beggin' your
pardon humbly, Commander; but I might put you in the way of the
prettiest haul. There's a gang of chaps enjoyin' theirselves down at
the 'Sailor's Return,' off the Quay, and not a 'protection' among
them. Fine lusty fellows, too! They might give your men a bit of
trouble to start with--"

"Why are you telling me this?" the officer interrupts,
suspicious-like.

"That's my affair," says Hancock boldly, seeing that he nibbled.
"Put it down to love o' my country, if you like; and take my advice
or leave it, just as you please. I'm not asking for money, so you
won't be any the poorer."

"Off the Quay, did you say? Has the house a Quay-door?"

"It has: but you needn't to trouble about that. They can't escape
that way, I promise you, having no boat alongside."

The little officer turned and whispered for a while with two of the
soberest of his gang: and presently these whispered to two more, and
the four of them marched away up the hill.

"'HANCOCK--TAILOR,'" reads out the officer aloud, stepping back into
the roadway and peering up at the shop-front. "Very well, my man,
you'll hear from us again--"

"I'm not askin' for any reward, Sir."

"So you've said: and I was about to say that, if this turns out to be
a trick, you'll hear from us again, and in a way you'll be sorry for.
And now, once more, take your ugly head inside. 'Tis my duty to act
on information, but I don't love informers."

For the moment the threat made the tailor uncomfortable: but he felt
pretty sure the sailors, when they discovered the trick, wouldn't be
able to do him much harm. The laugh of the whole town would be
against them: and on Regatta Night the press--un