"Go on, or you'll drive me to it," said Timmons impatiently.
"I couldn't understand what the landlord was sayin' about the Prince being as dry as snuff, but anyway, after a minute he said: 'There he is, winding up his wonderful clock,' and all the men in the bar looked up, and I did too, and there was the little man with the hump on his back pulling at something back and forward like the rods in a railway signal-box."
"You saw him?"
"Yes, and all the men in the bar saw him."
"How many men were there in the private bar?"
"Half-a-dozen or eight."
"You were drunk last night, Stamer."
"I was as sober as I am now."
"What o'clock was it then?"
"Well, I cannot say exactly, between twelve and half-past."