“You might ha’ lorst it, you see, Sam,” continued his benefactor; “if I could take it, anybody else could. Let this be a lesson to you.”
“If you don’t gimme my money——” began Sam violently.
“It’s no good trying to do ’im a kindness,” said Harry to the others as he turned to his bunk. “He can go an’ lose it for all I care.”
He put his hand in his bunk, and then with a sudden exclamation searched somewhat hastily amongst the bedding. Mr. Dodds, watching him with a scowl, saw him take every article separately out of his bunk, and then sink down appalled on the locker.
“You’ve took it, Sam—ain’t—you?” he gasped.
“Look ’ere,” said Mr. Dodds, with ominous quietness, “when you’ve done your little game.”
“It’s gone,” said Harry in a scared voice, “somebody’s taken it.”
“Look ’ere, ’Arry, give ’im his money,” said Steve impatiently; “a joke’s a joke, but we don’t want too much of it.”
“I ain’t got it,” said Harry trembling. “Sure as I stand ’ere it’s gone. I took it out of your pocket, and put it under my piller. You saw me, didn’t you, Steve?”
“Yes, and I told you not to,” said Steve. “Let this be a warning to you not to try and teach lessons to people wot don’t want ’em.”