Picking People's Pockets — Val Wilding

I was just dipping a nicely bulging pocket when something gripped my neck. My stomach scrunched up. I whipped my hand out of the pocket and froze. A hoarse voice whispered, "I told you to stay off Mr. Barkitt's patch. Didn't I?" As he said, "Didn't I?" he shook me by the neck. I was stretched so tall I thought I'd lose my trousers. The owner of the fat pocket was smirking at me. He didn't know how near he'd come to being robbed!