“Never you mind that. You know who I be all right enough. Be you goin' to pay me for them lobsters? That's what I want to know.”
“What lobsters?”
“Them lobsters you've been stealin' out of my pots for the last fortnight.”
“I have been stealing?”
“Yes, you. I been layin' for you all night long. I don't know who you be, but you'll pay for them lobsters or come along with me to the lock-up, one or t'other.”
I looked about, over the water. The light toward which I had been trying to steer blazed dead ahead, surprisingly near and bright. Except for that, however, there was no sign of anything except darkness and waves.
“Look here, my man,” I said. “I haven't stolen your lobsters; but—”
“I know better. I don't know who you be, but I'd know you was a thief if I run acrost you in prayer-meetin'. Just to look at you is enough.”
I heard a hysterical giggle from the bench beside me. Evidently the person with the club heard it, too, for he leaned forward to look.
“So there's two of ye, eh!” he said. “Well, by godfreys, I don't care if there's a million! You'll pay for them lobsters or go to the lock-up.”