Cheero,
guvnor and don't you get curious about Billy. It ain't 'ealthy."
The swing-door was suddenly opened. A touslehaired urchin shoved
his face in.
"Billy the Tanner's coming!" he shouted. "Cave, all! He's been
'avin' a rare to-do in Smith's Court."
Then a curious thing happened. The little crowd at the bar
seemed somehow to melt away. Half-a-dozen left precipitately by
the door. Half-a-dozen more slunk through an inner entrance into
some room beyond. Sir Timothy's neighbour set down his tumbler
empty. He was the last to leave.
"If you're going to stop 'ere, guvnor," he begged fervently, "you
keep a still tongue in your 'ead. Billy ain't particular who it
is. 'E'd kill 'is own mother, if 'e felt like it. 'E'll swing
some day, sure as I stand 'ere, but 'e'll do a bit more mischief
first. 'Op it with me, guvnor, or get inside there."
"Jim's right," the man behind the bar agreed. "He's a very nasty
customer, Bill the Tanner, sir. If he's coming down, I'd clear
out for a moment. You can go in the guvnor's sitting-room, if
you like."
Sir Timothy shook his head.
"Billy the Tanner will not hurt me," he said. "As a matter of
fact, I came down to see him."
His new friend hesitated no longer but made for the door through
which most of his companions had already disappeared.
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