"Consequently he's sartain sure to be lagged."[12]
"Ah! it must be a clever nob in the fur trade[13] who'll get him off."
"Well—talking makes me thirsty," said Crisp. "I wish I'd someot to sluice my ivories[14] with."
Markham entertained a faint idea that Mr. Crisp was athirst; he accordingly offered to pay for anything; which he and his brother policemen chose to drink.
The officer in plain clothes was commissioned to procure some "heavy-wet"—alias porter; and even the pompous, and magisterial inspector condescended to take what he called "a drain," but which in reality appeared to be something more than a pint.
The harmony was disturbed by the entrance of a constable dragging in a poor ragged, half-starved, and emaciated lad, without shoes or stockings.
"What's the charge?" demanded the inspector.
"A rogue and vagabond," answered the constable.
"Oh! very well: put that down, Crisp. How do you know?"
"Because he's wandering about and hasn't no where to go to, and no friends to refer to and I saw him begging."