It had a different effect on Piter, who growled angrily.
“Don’t, then,” shouted the man; “howl and bark—make a row, but if yer touch me I’ll take yer down and drownd yer in the wheel-pit. D’yer hear? In the wheel-pit!”
This was said in a low drowsy tone and as if the fellow were nearly asleep, and as the light played upon his half-closed dreamy eyes he muttered and stared at it as if completely overcome by sleep.
It was perfectly ridiculous, and yet horrible, to see that rough head and hideous face nodding and blinking at the light as the fellow supported himself on both his hands in an ape-like attitude that was more animal than human.
All this was a matter of a minute or so, and then the ugly cross eyes closed, opened sharply, and were brought to bear upon the light one after the other by movements of the head, just as a magpie looks at a young bird before he kills it with a stroke of his bill.
Then a glimpse of intelligence seemed to shoot from them, and the man sat up sharply.
“What’s that light?” he said roughly. “Police! What do you want?”
“What are you doing here?” said Uncle Jack in his deep voice.
“Doing, p’liceman! Keeping wetch. Set o’ Lonnoners trying to get howd o’ wucks, and me and my mates wean’t hev ’em. Just keeping wetch. Good-night!”
He sat up, staring harder at the light, and then tried to see behind it.