Charley's father nodded. He was still thinking over Mrs. Bindle's remark. It seemed to open up disconcerting possibilities.
"Now then, what are you going to do?" demanded the policeman sternly. "Do you wish to make a charge?"
"I will," said Mrs. Bindle, "unless 'e takes 'is furniture away and pays for the damage to my flowers. I'll charge 'im, the great, 'ulking brute, attacking a defenceless woman because he knows 'er 'usband's out."
"That's right, missis, you 'ave 'im quodded," called out the rag-and-bone man. "'E didn't ought to 'ave done that to your garding."
"Tryin' to swank us 'e'd taken the 'ouse," cried the woman with the tweed cap and hat-pin. "I see through 'im from the first, I did. There ain't many men wot can throw dust in my eyes," she added, looking eagerly round for a dissenting look.
"'Ullo, 'ullo!" cried a voice from the outskirts of the crowd. "Somebody givin' somethink away, or is it a fire? 'Ere, let me pass, I'm the cove wot pays the rent," and Bindle pushed his genial way through the crowd.
They made way without protest. The advent of the newcomer suggested further dramatic developments, possibly even a fight.
"'Ullo, Tichborne!" cried Bindle, catching sight of the big man. "Been scrappin'?"
The three protagonists in the drama turned, as if with relief, to face this new phase of the situation.
"'Oo's 'e?" enquired Bindle of the policeman, indicating the big man with a jerk of his thumb.