A CHILD OF THE JAGO
step farther. The clock attracted him again. It was a small, cheap, nickel-plated cylindrical thing, of American make, and it reminded him at once of the Bishop's watch. It was not gold, certainly, but it was a good deal bigger, and it could go—it was going. Dicky stepped back and glanced at the landing; then he darted into the room, whipped the clock under the breast of the big jacket and went for the stairs.
Half-way down he met the pale hunchback ascending. Left at home alone, he had been standing in the front doorway.
He saw Dicky's haste; saw also the suspicious bulge under his jacket, and straightway seized Dicky's arm.
"Where 'a' you bin?" he asked sharply. "Bin in our room? What you got there?"
"Nothin' o' yours, 'ump. Git out o' that!" Dicky pushed him aside. "If ye don't le' go, I'll corpse ye!"
But one arm and hand was occupied
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