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Jacobs, W. W., 1863-1943

"Dirty Work Deep Waters, Part 11."

"
He was a little wisp of a man, and I shook 'im like a dog shakes a rat.
I remembered my own pocket being picked, and I nearly shook the breath
out of 'im.
"And now I'm going to give you in charge," I ses, pushing 'im along
towards the gate.
"Wot for?" he ses, purtending to be surprised.
"Stealing," I ses.
"You've made a mistake," he ses; "you can search me if you like."
"More use to search the dock," I ses. "I see you throw it in. Now you
keep quiet, else you'll get 'urt. If you get five years I shall be all
the more pleased."
I don't know 'ow he did it, but 'e did. He seemed to sink away between
my legs, and afore I knew wot was 'appening, I was standing upside down
with all the blood rushing to my 'ead. As I rolled over he bolted
through the wicket, and was off like a flash of lightning.
A couple o' minutes arterwards the people wot I 'ad 'eard run past came
back agin. There was a big fat policeman with 'em--a man I'd seen afore
on the beat--and, when they 'ad gorn on, he stopped to 'ave a word with
me.
"'Ot work," he ses, taking off his 'elmet and wiping his bald 'ead with a
large red handkerchief.


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