“Naturally—naturally—sergeant....”
The Law’s regard became more affable.
“Hi hain’t the sergeant, sir—thankin’ you kindly jest the same. Seein’ a man on the railin’ at that time o’ night....”
She interrupted, nervously:
“It couldn’t have been so very late....”
“Sh!” came the warning from behind her.
Slowly and laboriously, Mr. Marks took from his pocket a large, open-faced silver watch, attached to a short loop and bow of bright, cherry-coloured ribbon.
“Three-twelve; nigh on three-fifteen,” he said, after a prolonged examination.
“But it was not three, then!”
“Hi didn’t say three, ma’am. Hi said three-twelve. Three-thirteen it is now, bein’ as time an’ tide waits for no man. Must a’ben two-thirty, any’ow—nearer two forty-five.” Preparing to return the watch to his pocket, he noticed the other man gazing at its cherry bow. “Hi see you’re hadmirin’ of this. It’s one of Mrs. Marks’s ’appy touches. She ‘as a good bit of sentiment, Mrs. Marks ’as—on haccount of marryin’ late in life. Hi recommends Mrs. Marks as a wife; or hany spinster that’s standin’, so to speak, hon the doorsill of the lonesome forties, for, w’en they gets took up by a man, they’re very grateful an’ supine. So as Hi was sayin’, seein’ ’im on the railin’ at that time of night, Hi thought Hi’d see wot was hup!”