" I could see that he
wanted to establish some bond of communication between us, and that was
why I followed him. As I quietly came up behind him he said, "That's
tacho like my dad. I dicked a bar and a pash-crooner." (That's as true
as can be. I saw a sovereign and a half-crown.) He was not comfortable
when he saw me, and I knew I had been a fool to let him know that I
spoke Rommany. However, I passed on as if I had not heard a word. The
fellow had no doubt been told that I was a tramp, and he put a feeler to
find out whether I knew the language of the road. Next day we met very
early. I had stayed out all night with some poachers, and I was in The
Chequers by half-past seven in the morning. Master Blackey was there
also, and we exchanged greetings. He was blotchy and his eyes seemed
heavy; moreover, he was without a drink, and I correctly guessed that he
had no money. My evil genius prompted me to ask for brandy-and-soda,
which was the last thing I should have done, and Blackey said, "Us
blokes can't go for sixpenny drinks.
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