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some lunch

Sprawled across the flagstones in front of the fireplace was a large dog of the mastiff kind.

‘Now that is a big dog,’ said Scabbit. ‘Look at the size of him.’

‘Aye he’s asleep, though - won’t hurt you. Just as long as you don’t go waking him up suddenly.’

They sat down either side of the long black table, taking care not to scrape their chairs so as not to disturb the sleeping hound. It was quiet in the Pot Room, very quiet. The only sounds were the gentle respirations of the sleeping dog.

The landlord returned with two mugs of frothsome ale.

‘There,’ he said setting them down. ‘That’s our local brew. Now, what about something to eat? We’ve got: Toad in the Hole, Shepherd’s Pie… or Pheasant. Or I could maybe make you a sandwich?’

‘Pheasant for me!’ said Jaundice.

Some time later, a plumber’s van was seen to round the curve past the Alms Houses and head for the open road. There was only one man whose services were indispensable to them now and they had been told where to find him.

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