"If you could catch that cove you'd be 'oldin' 'im, eh Ging?"
"Blast 'im!" exploded Ginger.
Shortly afterwards Ginger took an ungracious leave. The Night Club saw him no more.
On the Sunday following Bindle arrived early, hilarious with excitement.
"'Old me, 'Orace," he cried joyously, and two of "Tims'" men supported him in the approved manner of the prize-ring, flapping handkerchiefs before his face. Presently Bindle reassumed control of his limbs.
"What's the joke?" enquired Dick Little.
"Joke!" cried Bindle. "Joke! 'Ere 'old me again."
After further ministrations he explained. On the previous day he had met one of Ginger's mates, who had told him that Ginger was undergoing seven days C.B. for fighting in the guardroom.
"An' wot jer think 'e was fighting about?" enquired Bindle, his face crinkled with smiles.
We gave it up.