“’Cos I didn’t know ’im so well then,” ses Bill Jones.
“You soon change your mind, don’t you?” ses Peter.
Bill didn’t answer ’im. He was leaning back on the bench and staring at the bottle as if ’e couldn’t believe his eyesight. His face was all white and shining, and ’is hair as wet as if it ’ad just been dipped in a bucket o’ water.
“See a ghost, Bill?” ses Peter, looking at ’im.
Bill made a ’orrible noise in his throat, and kept on staring at the bottle till they thought ’e’d gone crazy. Then Jasper Potts bent his ’ead down and began to read out loud wot was on the bottle. “P-o-i—POISON FOR BILL JONES,” he ses, in a voice as if ’e couldn’t believe it.
You might ’ave heard a pin drop. Everybody turned and looked at Bill Jones, as he sat there trembling all over. Then those that could read took up the bottle and read it out loud all over agin.
“Pore Bill,” ses Peter Lamb. “I ’ad a feeling come over me that something was wrong.”
“You’re a murderer,” ses Sam Martin, catching ’old of Joe Barlcomb. “You’ll be ’ung for this. Look at pore Bill, cut off in ’is prime.”
“Run for the doctor,” ses someone.
Two of ’em ran off as ’ard as they could go, and then the landlord came round the bar and asked Bill to go and die outside, because ’e didn’t want to be brought into it. Jasper Potts told ’im to clear off, and then he bent down and asked Bill where the pain was.