“‘Gimme yer card,’ says he.
“‘My what?’
“‘Yer card—Say! Wot’s yer business, anyway?’
“And the anaemic Cerberus sized me up with so insolent an eye that I reached over and took him out of his chair. I knocked on his meagre chest with my fore knuckle, and fetched forth a weak, gaspy cough; but he looked at me unflinchingly, much like a defiant sparrow held in the hand.
“‘I am the census-taker Time,’ I boomed in sepulchral tones. ‘Beware lest I knock too loud.’
“‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he sneered.
“Whereupon I rapped him smartly, and he choked and turned purplish.
“‘Well, whatcher want?’ he wheezed with returning breath.
“‘I want Spargo, the only Spargo.’
“‘Then leave go, an’ I’ll glide an’ see.’