"Yes."
"What have you been up to?"
"I am afraid I don't understand you," he said.
"Oh, rot! People don't sneak their clothes over into the river for nothing. What are you going to stand me not to tell that bobby, eh?"
"I really don't care whether you do or not," he answered. "I had a reason for wanting to get rid of my clothes, but I am afraid you wouldn't understand it."
"Well, we'll try the bobby, then," she said. "There's a horrible murder this morning on the placards. How do I know that you're not the chap? It looks suspicious when you come out in a new suit of clothes and throw the old ones into the river. Anyway, the bobby would want to ask you a few questions about it."
"Well, you can try him, then," Douglas answered. "I'll wait here while you fetch him."
The girl laughed—it was not a pleasant sound.
"Where'd you be by the time I'd brought him, I'd like to know?" she remarked. "Never mind. I see you ain't likely to part with a lot. Stand us a drink, and I won't tell a soul."
"I would rather not, thanks," Douglas said. "I'll give you the money for one."