it would be safe to try and sell it. The idea o' walking about with a
fortune in their pockets that they couldn't spend a'most drove 'em crazy.

"The longer we keep it, the safer it'll be," ses Sam, as they was walking
down Hounds-ditch one day.

"We'll sell it when I'm sixty," ses Ginger, nasty-like.

"Then old Sam won't be 'ere to have 'is share," ses Peter.

Sam was just going to answer 'em back, when he stopped and began to smile
instead. Straight in front of 'im was the gentleman he 'ad met in the
coffee-shop, coming along with another man, and he just 'ad time to see
that it was the docker who 'ad sold him the locket, when they both saw
'im. They turned like a flash, and, afore Sam could get 'is breath,
bolted up a little alley and disappeared.

"Wot's the row?" ses Ginger, staring.

Sam didn't answer 'im. He stood there struck all of a heap.

"Do you know 'em?" ses Peter.

Sam couldn't answer 'im for a time. He was doing a bit of 'ard thinking.

"Chap I 'ad a row with the other night," he ses, at last.

He walked on very thoughtful, and the more 'e thought, the less 'e liked
it. He was so pale that Ginger thought 'e was ill and advised 'im to
'ave a drop o' brandy. Peter recommended rum, so to please 'em he 'ad