That's the beauty of 'aving a character, Mr.Wilks; a good character and a face like a baby with grey whiskers." Mr.Wilks bent down and, taking up a small brush, carefully tidied up the hearth.
"Like as not, if my part in it gets to be known," pursued Mr.Smith, mournfully, "I'll 'ave that gal of Kybird's scratching my eyes out or p'r'aps sticking a hat-pin into me.

I had that once; the longest hat-pin that ever was made, I should think." He shook his head over the perils of his calling, and then, after another glance at the clock, withdrew to the kitchen with his bag, leaving Mr.
Wilks waiting in a state of intense nervousness for the arrival of the others.
Captain Nugent was the first to put in an appearance, and by way of setting a good example poured a little of the whisky in his glass and sat there waiting.

Then Jack Nugent came in, fresh and glowing, and Mr.
Wilks, after standing about helplessly for a few moments, obeyed the captain's significant nod and joined Mr.Smith in the kitchen.
"You'd better go for a walk," said that gentle-man, regarding him kindly; "that's wot the cap'n thought." Mr.Wilks acquiesced eagerly, and tapping at the door passed through the room again into the street.

A glance as he went through showed him that Jack Nugent was drinking, and he set off in a panic to get away from the scene which he had contrived.
He slackened after a time and began to pace the streets at a rate which was less noticeable.

As he passed the Kybirds' he shivered, and it was not until he had consumed a pint or two of the strongest brew procurable at the _Two Schooners_ that he began to regain some of his old self-esteem.