Felix laughed his scorn. "No, thank yer, mate. I work up in the town. I only oblige the old man while he's ashore."
"Humph! Suppose you don't know what become of the chap as he brought down from Limehouse with him, do yer?"
Felix was quite sure now. He betrayed no surprise. "Want a character of the old man out of him before you sign on to the job?" he said, playfully.
"That's about the size of it—yes."
"Well, I did hear he was tramping it to Plymouth. Wanted to get out of England," said Felix, slowly.
There was a pause. "Got a light?" said the stranger at last.
Felix produced a match. "So long, mate," said he, moving to the gang-plank.
"Say—you couldn't let me sleep aboard, could you?" asked the unemployed.
"Daren't risk it, mate. Hope you won't take it hard, but I can't. Clean against orders, and the night-watchman is a terror. I don't mean losing my job, even if it was to help you to get one."
"Not likely. Hold hard a minute. Tell me—did you see the chap that came up on the Sarah Dawkes?"