"Oh, you will, will you?" said the policeman. "We'll see about that. We shall just see about that."
And the policeman dragged Priam along the cloister to the muffled music of "He will swallow up death in victory." They had not thus proceeded very far when they met another policeman, an older policeman.
"What's all this?" demanded the older policeman.
"Drunk and disorderly in the Abbey!" said the younger.
"Will you come quietly?" the older policeman asked Priam, with a touch of commiseration.
"I'm not drunk," said Priam fiercely; he was unversed in London, and unaware of the foolishness of reasoning with the watch-dogs of justice.
"Will you come quietly?" the older policeman repeated, this time without any touch of commiseration.
"Yes," said Priam.
And he went quietly. Experience may teach with the rapidity of lightning.
"But where's my hat?" he added after a moment, instinctively stopping.