Recognition was mutual between him and Mr. White.
“Hello, Foxey,” cried the latter. “It’s you, is it?”
“Me it is, guv’nor; but I didn’t know there was to be a ‘cop’ here”—this with a suspicious glance at Bruce and a backward movement towards the door.
“Do not be alarmed,” said the barrister; “this gentleman’s presence implies no trouble for you. We want you to help us, and if you do so willingly I will make up that lost fiver you received for driving two people to Putney the night you were arrested.”
The poor old cabman became very confused on hearing this staggering remark. Up to that moment he regarded Bruce as the agent for a charitable association, and there was no harm, he told his “missus,” in trying to “knock him for a bit.”
He stood nervously fumbling with his hat, but did not answer. White knew how to deal with him.
“Sit down, Foxey, and have a drink. You need one to cheer you up. Answer this gentleman’s questions. He means you no harm.”
“Honor bright?”
“Honor bright.”