Jack said he could do nothing, because the sudden swerving of the ’bus, the fall of the horse, and the instant gathering of a crowd, prevented him from making the attempt to grab the other man, who vanished, he believed, down Whitehall.
“You did not tell the police about the assault?” inquired Brett.
“Not me, guv’nor,” said the driver. “The poor chap in the road was not much ’urt. I knew that, though the mob thort ’e was a dead ’un. An’ wot does it mean? A day lost in the polis-court, an’ a day lost on my pay-sheet, too.”
“Well,” said Brett, “the twist you gave to the reins this morning meant several days added to your pay-sheet. Would either of you know the man again if you saw him?”
This needed reflection.
“I wouldn’t swear to ’im,” was the driver’s dictum, “but I would swear to any man bein’ like ’im.”
“Same ’ere,” said the conductor.
The barrister understood their meaning, which had not the general application implied by the words. He obtained the addresses of both men and left them.
His next visit was to an Atlas terminus. Here he had to wait a full hour before the ’bus arrived that had passed Trafalgar Square on a south journey at 10.45.
The conductor remembered the sudden stoppage of the Road Car vehicle.