A CHILD OF THE JAGO
chin, like the bloke at 'ighbury!" Josh Perrott ended with a tigerish snarl and a white spot at the curl of each of his nostrils.
"Blimy!" said Bill Rann; "an' so it was 'im, was it? I often wondered 'oo you meant. Well, flimpin' 'im 's the best way. Won't 'e sing a bleed'n' 'ymn w'en 'e finds 'is stuff weeded!" Bill flung back his head, and laughed again. "But there, let's lay it out." And the two men fell to the discussion of methods.
Weech's back-fence was to be his undoing. It was the obvious plan. The front shutters were impracticable in such a place as Meakin Street; but the alleys in the rear were a perfect approach. Bill Rann had surveyed the spot attentively, and, after expert consideration, he had selected the wash-house window as the point of entrance. Old boxes and packing-wood littered the yard, and it would be easy to mount a selected box, shift the
347
