'Well, there ain't no crime in giving a wrong address,' the man said. 'What business have you with where I live? You don't pay for my lodging, anyhow.'
'Where were you born?' Mrs. Sarrasin asked.
'Why, in London, to be sure.'
'In the East End?'
'So I'm told—I don't myself remember.'
'Well, look here, will you just say a few words after me?'
'I ain't got no pertickler objection.'
The cross-examination now had passed wholly into the hands of Mrs. Sarrasin. Captain Sarrasin looked on with wonder and delight—Ericson was really interested and amused.
'Say these words.' She repeated slowly, and giving him plenty of time to get the words into his ears and his mind, a number of phrases in which the peculiar accent and pronunciation of the born Whitechapel man were certain to come out. Ericson, of course, comprehended the meaning of the whole performance. The East End man hesitated.
'I ain't here for playing tricks,' he mumbled. 'I want to be getting home to my old woman.'