Having read this, Barnabas folded the paper very gently, and putting it back, closed the watch, and slipped it into his fob.
"And now," said Mr. Shrig, exhaling a vast cloud of smoke, "afore I go on to tell you about this 'ere murder as I'm a-vaiting for, I must show ye my little reader." Here Mr. Shrig thrust a hand into his pocket,—then his pipe shivered to fragments on the stone floor and he started up, mouth agape and eyes staring.
"Lord, Jarsper!" cried the Corporal, "what is it, comrade?"
"It's gone, Dick!" he gasped, "my little reader's been stole."
But now, even as he turned towards the door, Barnabas laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
"Not stolen—lost!" said he, "and indeed, I'm not at all surprised!"
Here Barnabas smiled his quick, bright smile.
"Sir—sir?" stammered Mr. Shrig, "oh, Pal, d'ye mean—?"
"That I found it, yes," said Barnabas, "and here it is."
Mr. Shrig took his little book, opened it, closed it, thrust it into his pocket, and took it out again.
"Sir," said he, catching Barnabas by the hand, "this here little book is more to me nor gold or rubies. Sir, you are my pal,—and consequent the Corp's also, and this 'ere chaffing-crib is allus open to you. And if ever you want a man at your back—I'm your man, and v'en not me—there's my pal Dick, ain't there, Di—"