Escape was impossible; in another moment the man was by his side.
“Hullo, old pal! Who would have thought of seeing you?”
Joyce did not take the dirty hand that was proffered. He stuck his own deep in his pockets, frowned at the man, and turned away. But the other followed.
“Look here, old pal, I don’t call this a friendly lead--bust me if I do. You might pass the time of day with a bloke--especially as it is n’t sol ong ago----”
The man’s voice was loud, the pier busy with people. The air seemed to Joyce filled with a thousand listening ears. His blood tingled with shame. He faced round with an angry look.
“Oh, don’t take on, old pal,” replied the other, in lower tones. “I ain’t going to give you away--don’t you fear. It’s only pleasant to meet old pals again--in better circs. Ain’t it?”
Joyce had always loathed him--a flabby, sallow, greasy-faced fellow, with blear eyes and a protruding under-lip. He had been sentenced for a foul offence against decency. Joyce’s soul used to revolt at the sight of him as they sat on either side of the reeking tub washing up the cooking utensils in the prison kitchen. The hateful stench rose again to his nostrils now and turned his stomach.
“Can’t you see I am going to have nothing to do with you?” he said angrily.
“Come, don’t be hard on a bloke when he’s down,” replied the man. “It ain’t everyone that gets on their legs again when they comes out. I ’ve been out two months, and I haven’t had a job yet. S’welp me! And there’s the wife and the kids starving. Give us a couple of quid to send to ’em and make ’em happy again. Just two thick uns.”
Joyce stared at him, breathless with indignation at his impudence.
“I ’ll see you damned first!” he cried fiercely.
“Well, make it ten bob, or five, or the price of a drink, old pal. You can’t leave an old fellow-boarder in distress, or the luck will turn agen you.”
He leered up into Joyce’s face, disclosing a jagged row of yellow teeth. But Joyce started forward and took him by the collar.
“If you try to blackmail me,” said he, pointing to a policeman on the quay, “I ’ll give you in charge. Just stay where you are and let me go my ways.”
He released him and marched off. But the man did not attempt to follow. He slipped into a seat close by and sang out sarcastically: “If you ’ll leave your address, I ’ll send you a mourning card when the kids is dead!”