"There seems to be a lot o' money knocking about to-night," ses the
landlord, as Sam Martin, the last of 'em, was drinking 'is pint.

Sam Martin choked and put 'is pot down on the counter with a bang, and
him and the other five was out o' that door and sailing up the road with
their tenpences afore the landlord could get his breath. He stood to the
bar scratching his 'ead and staring, but he couldn't understand it a bit
till a man wot was too late to sell his ha'penny up and told 'im all
about it. The fuss 'e made was terrible. The shillings was in a little
heap on a shelf at the back o' the bar, and he did all sorts o' things to
'em to prove that they was bad, and threatened Joe Barlcomb with the
police. At last, however, 'e saw wot a fool he was making of himself,
and arter nearly breaking his teeth 'e dropped them into a drawer and
stirred 'em up with the others.

Joe Barlcomb went round the next night to see Mrs. Prince, and she asked
'im a lot o' questions about the men as 'ad sold 'im the ha'pennies.

"The fust part 'as been done very well," she ses, nodding her 'ead at
'im; "if you do the second part as well, you'll soon know who your enemy
is."

"Nothing'll bring the pig back," ses Joe.

"There's worse misfortunes than that, as I've told you," ses Mrs. Prince,
sharply. "Now, listen to wot I'm going to say to you. When the clock
strikes twelve to-night----"

"Our clock don't strike," ses Joe.