"No," ses Sam, staring.

"'Cos I know a place where they sell the best glass o' port wine in
London," ses the man.

He took Sam up two or three turnings, and then led him into a quiet
little pub in a back street. There was a cosy little saloon bar with
nobody in it, and, arter Sam had 'ad two port wines for the look of the
thing, he 'ad a pint o' six-ale because he liked it. His new pal had one
too, and he 'ad just taken a pull at it and wiped his mouth, when 'e
noticed a little bill pinned up at the back of the bar.

"_Lost, between--the Mint and--Tower Stairs,_" he ses, leaning forward
and reading very slow, "_a gold--locket--set with--diamonds. Whoever
will--return--the same to--Mr. Smith--Orange Villa--Barnet--will receive
--thirty pounds--reward."

"'Ow much?" ses Sam, starting. "Thirty pounds," ses the man. "Must be a
good locket. Where'd you get that?" he ses, turning to the barmaid.

"Gentleman came in an hour ago," ses the gal, "and, arter he had 'ad two
or three drinks with the guv'nor, he asks 'im to stick it up. 'Arf
crying he was--said 'it 'ad belonged to his old woman wot died."

She went off to serve a customer at the other end of the bar wot was
making little dents in it with his pot, and the man came back and sat
down by Sam agin, and began to talk about horse-racing. At least, he
tried to, but Sam couldn't talk of nothing but that locket, and wot a
nice steady sailorman could do with thirty pounds.