"Yes! Read 'em out!" Miss Bird returned in a saw-like, rasping growl.
Mr Cleave turned over the pages of The Total Abstainer with evident relish.
"The worst," he said, in a high, thin voice, "is one that our commissioner only heard by unexpected good fortune. He does not often go westwards. He finds that Bow Street and Whitechapel bring more grist----"
"Read it out!" shouted Miss Bird.
"A piteous example of what over-indulgence in alcohol may bring a man to (read Mr Cleave) was afforded by a case which came before our notice one day last week in the Kensington Police Court. The degraded being, who faced the magistrate with an unabashed gaze, was a young doctor named Mortimer, who gave as his address a place of mercy and healing--the Hospital of St Matthew."
"By George!" exclaimed Jim, "that's how our local rag got hold of it! Copied it out of your paper."
"Pardon?" observed Mr Cleave.
"Go on!" roared Miss Bird.
"The facts were few but terrible (continued Mr Cleave). This member of a noble calling, inflamed and rendered reckless of all consequences by the Bend aforesaid, actually made a ferocious onslaught on a band of six policemen. In a fair pleasure garden he let loose his unruly passions, and only after a terrific struggle was he captured, handcuffed, and thrust into a cell----"
"They locked you up, then?" inquired Jefferson, glancing maliciously at Jim.