“What’s that?” he exclaimed.
“What’s what?”
“My knife struck metal—a chain about his neck!”
“Somebody’s pet!” exclaimed Jarvis, “and a bloomin’ fine one!” He bent over to examine the chain.
“But whose?” asked Dave.
“’Ere’s the tag. Take a look.”
“Looks oriental. Some numbers and letters. I can’t read them.”
“Sure,” grinned Jarvis. “Ain’t I been tellin’ y’? It’s the bloody bloomin’ ’eathen from the islands down the sea-coast. They’re ‘angin’ about ’ere. They’ll be lettin’ out a ’ole menagerie against us some fine day—elephants, lions, mebby a hyena or two, and who knows what?”
He stood and stared at Dave; Dave stared back at him.