"But you told me——"
"That I'd do it for tuppence, but not fer two bob, guv'nor. Goo'-night, and thenk yer."
Leicester laughed. He had not expected the man to throw himself into the river; indeed, had he attempted it, he would most likely have stopped him; but he laughed all the same. Two shillings meant food and a warm place to lie, and the tramp clung to life.
"We are all such cowards," he said, as he walked on towards Blackfriars Bridge. The great space outside Blackfriars underground railway station was empty. Not a soul was to be seen. He crossed to the road at the end of the bridge, and stood at the top of the steps which led down to the river.
"I'll look at it closer," he said. "It'll be fun to stand and watch the dirty stuff sweep on to the sea."
He went down the granite steps which led to the river, and crept under the barrier that was placed halfway down. It felt much colder as he came close to the water, and the sudden roll of the river sounded awesome. A few steps from the bottom he stopped.
"If there was any good in living!" he said. "But there isn't. What lies before me? I am a hopeless, purposeless, whisky-sodden fool. There's nothing to live for."
He went nearer the river.
His attention was drawn to a shapeless something which the river had swept to the bottom step, and which, as the tide had receded, had left lying there. He went closer to it and examined it.
It was the dead body of a man.