Miss Levering came forward again. But the call to 'go on' had come a little suddenly.
'Perhaps you—you don't know—you don't know——'
'How're we going to know if you can't tell us?' demanded a sarcastic voice.
It steadied her. 'Thank you for that,' she said, smiling. 'We couldn't have a better motto. How are you to know if we can't somehow manage to tell you?' With a visible effort she went on, 'Well, I certainly didn't know before that the sergeants and policemen are instructed to deceive the people as to the time such cases are heard.'
'It's just as hard,' said a bystander to his companion, 'just as hard for learned counsel in the august quiet of the Chancery Division to find out when their cases are really coming on.'
'You ask, and you're sent to Marlborough Police Court,' said Miss Levering, 'instead of to Marylebone.'
'They oughter send yer to 'Olloway—do y' good.'
'You go on, miss. Nobody minds 'im.'
'Wot can you expect from a pig but a grunt?'
'You are told the case will be at two o'clock, and it's really called for eleven. Well, I took a great deal of trouble, and I didn't believe what I was told.' She was warming a little to her task. 'Yes, that's almost the first thing we have to learn—to get over our touching faith that because a man tells us something, it's true. I got to the right court, and I was so anxious not to be late, I was too early.'