"The shape wos 'is own, and the time o' day was four this arternoon, and the place wos Finchley Road."
"Go on, Jack," I said, seeing that he believed in it.
"I was out with the barrer," he continued, "and was bargainin' with a lady for some daisies. There they wos on the pavement, and she and me lookin' at 'em. As I stooped to pick up a pot, somethink brushed by me. We touched each other. Lookin' up I sor Louis, and the pot dropped from my hand."
"Did you go after him?"
"Me go arter 'im. I'd 'ave run a 'undered miles the other way."
"Did he vanish in blue flames, Jack?"
"No, guv'nor. 'E turned a corner."
"But, consider, my lad. The man is dead."
"Don't I know it?" cried Jack, as if my remark exasperated him. "Is it likely I should 'ave come to you if 'e'd been alive?"
"You looked up at him, you say. Did he look down at you?"