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Dirty Work - Deep Waters, Part 11. by W. W. Jacobs
page 8 of 19 (42%)
make up my mind to do a thing, I do it. I fixed my eyes on the place
where I thought the purse was, and every time I felt anything under my
foot I reached down and picked it up--and then chucked it away as far as
I could so as not to pick it up agin. Dirty job it was, too, and in five
minutes I was mud up to the neck, a'most. And I 'ad just got to wot I
thought was the right place, and feeling about very careful, when the
bell rang agin.

I thought I should ha' gorn out o' my mind. It was just a little tinkle
at first, then another tinkle, but, as I stood there all in the dark and
cold trying to make up my mind to take no notice of it, it began to ring
like mad. I 'ad to go--I've known men climb over the gate afore now--and
I didn't want to be caught in that dock.

The mud seemed stickier than ever, but I got out at last, and, arter
scraping some of it off with a bit o' stick, I put on my coat and
trousers and boots just as I was and went to the gate, with the bell
going its 'ardest all the time.

When I opened the gate and see the landlord of the Bear's Head standing
there I turned quite dizzy, and there was a noise in my ears like the
roaring of the sea. I should think I stood there for a couple o' minutes
without being able to say a word. I could think of 'em.

"Don't be frightened, Bill," ses the landlord. "I'm not going to eat
you."

"He looks as if he's walking in 'is sleep," ses the fat policeman, wot
was standing near by. "Don't startle 'im."

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