“I—I—you—you,” stammered the shoemaker, “you met me you know about two hours ago, and you said you was a going home.”
“Well, sir.”
“It’s an odd time of night to be out.”
“Then why don’t you go home?” said Gray, summoning all the presence of mind he could to his aid.
“Ah—yes—exactly, that is, a—hem!” said the shoemaker, feeling very much confused, for he was afraid to promote hostilities with Gray, and equally reluctant to let him go.
“Can you accommodate me,” said Gray, turning to the woman, “and two friends?”
“Three of you!” groaned the shoemaker.
“Yes,” said Gray, “I have two friends waiting for me.”
“There’ll be a great deal of danger in having anything to do with him,” thought the shoemaker, “but I’d wager ten guineas he’s the man that killed Vaughan.”
“I can’t accommodate you all,” said the woman. “You can stay here, if you like; and your friends can get a bed at the King’s Arms at the bottom of the street.”