‘Oh, I won it in a shilling raffle. It’s a beauty, isn’t it?’
The following Saturday afternoon, just as I was leaving the house for a stroll, Joe met me rather hurriedly, saying: ‘Tom, I’m going to Manchester till Tuesday. I haven’t much time to catch t’ train, and I just want one or two things in t’ house, and a few shillings extra like. Just run and pawn this watch for me, there’s a good lad, and we’ll both go to station together.’
‘All right, Joe,’ I said; ‘give it to me.’
‘I’ll follow thee in a minute,’ he shouted, as I hurried to the nearest pawnshop.
When I handed the watch to the shopman, he examined it closely, and once or twice looked rather queerly at me. ‘Where did you get this?’ he asked.
‘A mate of mine just gave it me to pawn,’ I answered. ‘He won it in a raffle; I expect him here directly.’
‘Boy!’ he shouted to an assistant in the shop, ‘I shall want some change; run and get some as quick as you can.’
In a few minutes the boy came back with a policeman—the ‘change’ he was sent out for, as it proved.
‘Officer,’ said the shopman, ‘this young man has just handed in a watch that’s wanted. Here’s the notice of warning sent round from the police office.’
‘What have you got to say?’ said the policeman.