“Is he up to a hard day’s work?”
“The best tit in London, sir.”
“Pull him up to the pavement.”
The man obeyed. Instantly his three predecessors on the rank began a chorus:
“‘Ere! Wot th’—”
“All right, Jimmy. Wait till—”
“Well, I’m—”
“What is the matter?” inquired Brett, “You fellows always squeal before you are hurt. Here is a fare each for you,” and he solemnly gave them a shilling a-piece.
Even then they were not satisfied. They all objurgated Jimmy for his luck as he drove off.
It was an easy matter to find the constable who had been on point duty at the crossing when the “accident” happened. This man produced his note-book containing the number of the Road Car Company’s Camden Town and Victoria ’bus, the driver of which had so cleverly avoided a catastrophe. The policeman knew nothing of events prior to the falling of the horse. There was the usual crowd of hurrying people; the scream of a startled woman; a rush of sightseers; and the rescue of Frazer from beneath the prostrate animal.