“All right—all right now—move on! Never mind about that now, Johnny! Can’t do with you making your bother ’ere!”
The little man whirled round on him furiously.
“Johnny! Johnny is it? Isn’t it Johnny I’m talkin’ about, the bes’ shipmate ever a man had—smashed like a rotten apple, and no cause at all for him to fall—oh, ye villain—oh, ye—”
Olympus grew slightly impatient.
“Come now, move on! Can’t do with you creatin’ no bother! Move on, I tell you, if you don’t want me to appre’end you!”
The little man shuffled off, still muttering to himself, and pausing now and again in his zigzag progress along the road to flourish his fists at those contemptuous spars stabbing the sunset. The policeman, catching Anderton’s eye, tapped his forehead significantly.
“Case o’ Dhoolallie tap, as we used
