“Do you know Kiel?”
“Yes,—yer—’onor.”
“D’ye know the ‘British Flag’ on the quay there?”
“Yes,—yer—’onor.”
“Been there often?”
“Yes,—yer—’onor.”
“Does Nick Johnson still keep it?”
“Yes,—yer—’onor.”
“Then,” said my friend, after giving vent to a strong opinion as to the beggar’s veracity, “I’d advise you to be off quickly, for there’s a policeman, and if I get within hail of him I shall tell him you’re an impostor. There’s no such house on the quay. Get out, you scoundrel!”
The fellow shuffled off, looking curses, but not daring to express them.