Somebody had gone for a doctor, it was said, but a doctor was not always easy to find in Wapping. Mrs. Grimes, who was at some late work upstairs, was not disturbed at first by the noise, since excitement was not uncommon in the neighbourhood. But now she came to the stairfoot door, and peeped and hurried back. For myself, I squeezed into a far corner and stared, a little sick; for there was a deal of blood, and Joe the potman was all dabbled, like a slaughterman. My grandfather returned almost on the doctor's heels, and with my grandfather were some river police, in glazed hats and pilot coats. The doctor puffed and shook his head, called for cold water, and cloths, and turpentine, and milk. Cold water and cloths were ready enough, and turpentine was easy to get, but ere the milk came it was useless. The doctor shook his head and puffed more than ever, wiped his hands and pulled his cuffs down gingerly. I could not see the man on the floor, now, for the doctor was in the way; but I heard him, just before the doctor stood up. The noise sent my neck cold at the back; though indeed it was scarce more than the noise made in emptying a large bottle by up-ending it. The doctor stood up and shook his head. "Gone," he said. "And I couldn't have done more than keep him alive a few minutes, at best. It was the lung, and bad--two places. Have they got the man?" "No," said Grandfather Nat, "nor ain't very likely, I'd say. Never saw him again, once he got behind a tier o' lighters. Waterside chap, certain; knows the river well enough, an' these stairs. I couldn't ha' got that boat o' mine off quicker, not myself." "Ah," said one of the river policemen, "he's a waterside chap, that's plain enough. Any other 'ud a-bolted up the street. Never said nothing, did he--this one?" He was bending over the dead man; while the others cleared the people back from the door, and squeezed Mr. Cripps out among them. "No, not a word," answered Joe the potman. "Couldn't. Tried to nod once when I spoke to 'im, but it seemed to make 'im bleed faster." "Know him, Cap'en Nat?" asked the sergeant. "No," answered my grandfather, "I don't know him. Might ha' seen him hanging about p'raps. But then I see a lot doin' that." I wondered if Grandfather Nat had already forgotten about the silver watch with the M on it, or if he had merely failed to recognise the man. But I remembered what he had said in the morning, after he had bought the spoons, and I reflected that I had best hold my tongue. And now voices without made it known that the shore police were here, with a stretcher; and presently, with a crowding and squeezing in the little bar-parlour that drove me deeper into my corner and farther under the shelf, the uncomely figure was got from the floor to the stretcher, and so out of the house.