“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.”
“I’m going to the police-station to give ’im in charge,” said Mr. Dodds fiercely; “that’s wot I’m goin’ to do.”
“For the Lord’s sake don’t do that, Sam,” said Pilchard, clutching him by the coat.
“’Arry ain’t made away with it, Sam,” said Steve. “I saw somebody take it out of his bunk while he was asleep.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?” cried Harry, starting up.