"I've 'ad a 'orrible
nightmare, I 'ave--a nightmare. See?"
He fixed his eyes on me for a moment, then raised himself from
his seat, peering narrowly at me across the table.
"I seed you before, mate. Gaw, blimey! if you ain't the bloke
wot I giv'd the pigtail to! And wot laid out that blasted Chink
as was scraggin' me! Shake, mate!"
I shook hands with him, Harley eyeing me closely the while, in a
manner which told me that his quick brain had already supplied
the link connecting our doped acquaintance with my strange
experience during his absence. At the same time it occurred to
me that my fireman friend did not know that Ah Fu was dead, or he
would never have broached the subject so openly.
"That's so," I said, and wondered if he required further
information.
"It's all right, mate. I don't want to 'ear no more about
blinking pigtails--not all my life I don't," and he sat back
heavily in his chair and stared at Harley.
"Where have you been?" inquired Harley, as if no interruption had
occurred, and then began to reload his pipe: "at Malay Jack's or
at Number Fourteen?"
"Neither of 'em!" cried the fireman, some evidence of animation
appearing in his face; "I been at Kwen Lung's."
"In Pennyfields?"
"That's 'im, the old bloke with the big joss.
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