Young Tavendale said not to talk rot, the constable had been stumbling all over the street. Some others of the picket came out from the lithe, hanging round the bobbies, and called the same, the cuddy of a bobby had had the staggers, or water on the brain—if he had a brain. But Feet cried Stand back, or well take you as well; and he asked Tavendale if he’d come peaceable or not and Tavendale lifted his shoulders with a laugh and said he supposed so, he was cool and unfeared: and turned round sudden on the bobby that had bumped him: I can see that this is a put-up show—

Afore he could say another word, Christ, what a crack! the bobby had his stick out and smashed him to the ground. Then he looked to Feet and the meikle swine nodded: In self-defence, Dickson. All right, pick him up.

You saw the toff as they carried him past, he was only a kid, his hair dripping with blood, he hung like a sack among their fat hands. The picket tailed after crying that they’d see about this: but at that the rest of the bobbies faced round and in half a minute had cleared the street, Feet said the picket was trying to prevent an arrest.

And off they carted young Tavendale; and just as you were slipping off home yourself to spread the news in Kirrieben you ran bang into a white-faced young fool, panting and habbering, What’s on at Gowans? You told him, and he cried Oh Christ, he’d never meant it, and you thought he was probably drunk, or daft, or both, and left him to it, he looked soft enough to pitch himself head first in the Docks—

Every movement he made sent a stream of pain down his legs and body, he thought, but wasn’t sure, that his right arm was broken where they’d twisted it; and thought again Not likely, that would show too much; and fainted off in the fire of the pain.

When next he woke he thought it near morning, his throat burning, he tried to cry for a drink of water. And after a minute the cell door opened, a blaze from the passage on the blaze in the cell, he saw a dim face, big, it floated, and the face said he’d get a drink if he owned up now it was him that had drowned Johnny Edwards and organized the throwing of the pepper at the Docks? And Ewan moved his swollen lips, dull mumble, and heard himself say You can go to hell! Then his head went crack on the bobby’s boot….

When he’d come-to after that time at the Docks he’d found himself on a bench in the Station, they’d started to ask his name and address and take it down in a big case-book. He’d asked what charge he was arrested on, and the big sergeant at the desk said he’d know soon enough, none of his la-de-da lip here, the bastard. Right, boys, rape him.