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I’m sure the little rat hasn’t been ’ere since Friday.’
    â€˜He might have,’ countered Daniel.
    This had more than the desired effect on Martha, who lost colour and clasped her hands anxiously. Mr Lang had ordered her to keep an eye on Daniel’s friends after the last bottle of wine had gone missing. If she had missed a visit from Barry the Bag, it would not go well with her.
    â€˜Er, d’yer think Mr Lang will take it out o’ me wages, like?’ Martha asked.
    â€˜No, and I shall put in a good word for you if he asks,’ Daniel assured her.
    â€˜Oh young sir, would yer really? I been ’aving a bad time of it lately, an’ I’d hate ter add another blot ter me copybook.’
    â€˜I’m not Emily, you don’t have to worry,’ said Daniel. ‘Now, um, can you do something else for me?’
    â€˜Oh aye, anything.’
    â€˜Promise to say nothing about this to anyone but me.’
    â€˜Oh aye, that I will.’
    â€˜And if anything else is stolen, let me know at once.’
    â€˜That I will, young master, betcha life on it.’

    Daniel dashed out of the house and ran to the local railway station to speak with Barry the Bag. Barry was about Daniel’s age, and issued and collected tickets at the station when his father was too drunk to be on duty. As far as Daniel could tell, this was most of the time. Barry was extracting tobacco from discarded cigarettes for resale to his father’s friends when Daniel arrived.
    â€˜Dan the Man, man o’ mine!’ called the short, thin and very shifty-looking Barry as Daniel arrived.
    Mrs Lang said that Barry always looked as if he were about to snatch something and run. In fact Barry never snatched anything. He just had a way of picking up things as if they were his, then walking away with them. Barry held out a tobacco-stained hand to Daniel. Barry was the only person that Daniel knew who had tobacco stains on his fingers but did not smoke.
    â€˜Look, Barry, I don’t have much time,’ began Daniel.
    â€˜That’s the way it is, Dan Man. Them wot has it all don’t have no time, them wot’s resourcefully deprived like me got all the time in the world.’
    â€˜Last night, do you remember selling a ticket to someone about my height and dressed like me?’
    â€˜Yeah, now that you mention it. Cove with real neat hair, talked like a foreigner.’
    â€˜Yes, yes. Barry, tell me all about him. Did he do anything odd?’
    â€˜Dunno, nothin’ much to tell. The bloke stood about on the platform, then got on the train. Oh, an’ he checked some stuff from ’is pockets. Little jars, lemons, that’s all I could see. Wasn’t really lookin’ if the truth be known.’
    â€˜Things are missing back at the house …’
    Barry suddenly went on the defensive; that is, he cringed slightly then glanced to his right and left.
    â€˜I only polished off the scotch wot was left in yer old man’s glass!’ he protested softly. ‘You know, like the Bible says. Waste not, want not.’
    â€˜The Bible doesn’t say that.’
    â€˜Doesn’t it? So, wot’s gone?’
    â€˜Condy’s crystals.’
    â€˜Wot’s that?’
    â€˜Potassium permanganate. It turns water purple.’
    â€˜Shit, eh? Wot else?’
    â€˜Bleach.’
    â€˜Yeah, I’ve heard o’ that. Wot is it?’
    â€˜It turns white cloth white.’
    â€˜Turns white things white? Ain’t that one o’ those astrologies ya told me about, like when ya say the same thing twice when ya only need to say it once?’
    â€˜I think you mean tautologies.’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜What about missing jars?’
    â€˜Jars of wot?’
    â€˜Empty jars.’
    Barry burst out laughing.
    â€˜Dan the Man, ya been at yer old man’s scotch or wot? Me, take jars full of bleach and, er, that other stuff? Ya want my