“Oh, by the way,” said Easton, glad of an opportunity to change the subject, “you don’t happen to know of anyone as wants a room, do you? We’ve got one more than we want, so the wife thought that we might as well let it.”
Crass thought for a moment. “Can’t say as I do,” he answered, doubtfully. “Slyme was talking last week about leaving the place ’e’s lodging at, but I don’t know whether ’e’s got another place to go to. You might ask him. I don’t know of anyone else.”
“I’ll speak to ’im,” replied Easton. “What’s the time? it must be nearly on it.”
“So it is: just on eight,” exclaimed Crass, and drawing his whistle he blew a shrill blast upon it to apprise the others of the fact.
“Has anyone seen old Jack Linden since ’e got the push?” inquired Harlow during breakfast.
“I seen ’im Saterdy,” said Slyme.
“Is ’e doin’ anything?”
“I don’t know: I didn’t ’ave time to speak to ’im.”
“No, ’e ain’t got nothing,” remarked Philpot. “I seen ’im Saterdy night, an’ ’e told me ’e’s been walkin’ about ever since.”
Philpot did not add that he had “lent” Linden a shilling, which he never expected to see again.