“’Ere’s the young fellow I spoke about just now!” cried Mr. Dobb. “Look at the state of ’is eyes, and you can see I was telling the truth!”
“And ’as ’e got it there in the basket?” asked the landlord, eagerly.
“’E ’as!” declared Mr. Dobb, and, unfastening the lid of the hamper, he allowed its occupant to escape.
“That’s ’im!” cried the landlord, raptly.
“That’s our dear, dear little lost one!” shrilled the lady, in happy agitation.
“Well, you’re a trump!” declared the landlord, turning to Mr. Lock. “This gent ’ere ’as been telling us all about it!”
“Oh!” said Mr. Lock, lamely.
“Yes, indeed,” answered the landlord. “We ’appened to mention to ’im that our cat was missing, and ’e told us ’ow ’e knew of a cat what ’ad been saved from torture by a sailorman. There was a great big ’ulking chap and another chap ’ad got ’old of our cat,” narrated the landlord, “and you see ’em ill-treating it, and you interfered, and they knocked you about cruel, and give you two terrible black eyes—”
“And they are terrible, too!” said the landlady, with a sympathetic shudder. “You must ’ave suffered, young man.”
“I did, ma’am. I did!”