“I’ve no objections,” replied the guardian of the night.
He stepped inside the passage, and waited while Mrs. Preedy went downstairs—now with a brisker step—and returned with a glass of liquor, which he emptied at a gulp. Thus refreshed, he gave the usual policeman’s pull at his belt, and with a “thank ’ee,” stepped outside the street door.
“A fine night,” he said.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Preedy.
“But dark.”
“Yes,” acquiesced Mrs. Preedy, with a slight shudder, “but dark. ‘As anythink been discovered?” with another shrinking glance at No. 119.
“Nothing.”
“‘As nobody been took up?” she asked.
“No,” replied the policeman. “One man come to the station last night and said he done it; but he had the delirium trimmings very bad, and we found out this morning that he was in Margate at the time. So of course it couldn’t have been him.”
“No,” said Mrs. Preedy, “but only to think of it—though it’s more than two months ago—sends the cold shivers over me.”