“Faces, and a what?”
“A parsecutor—that is, they parsecutes me, and I gives them a dodge through the streets, you see; and they, coming rather quick, I bolts down this here street, and the first thing I sees is ‘wait—J.G.’ on your door.”
“Well, what then?”
“Why, then Popsy and me, we gives the door a drive and we gets in, then we shuts it again, and we’ve waited here ever since.”
“And it was you who made the noise I heard just now, as I was ascending the stairs?”
“Very like; and it has quite alarmed poor Popsy, and shattered his nerves by squeaking out in the passage.”
“How long have you been here?”
“A matter of half an hour.”
“What have you stolen?”
“Stole! Stole!”