"Twenty, sir." The alien appeared to relax. "Yes, it fits the description, all right." He turned to another. "Tom, you'd best go and telegraph Manchester. Sam, you go with him and bring back another couple o' boys. We'll just lay us a trap."
I walked all about the Jaguar, prodding her bonnet and peering at the dashboard gingerly. "Deuced mysterious affairs, motors," I said. "Don't see how anyone can tell what gadget to push next."
"We're a-going to lay an ambush for this 'ere Slasher, sir, if you don't mind," said one of them.
"Hear, hear," I said. "Chop the blighter, what? Pip him in the early counties, right?"
"There's liable to be trouble, sir," insinuated another.
"Rather," I yammered. "Oh, rather."
"We'd like to get ready now, if you please, sir."
"Oh, absolutely. Carry on. Lay a snare for the wretched person, lads," said I heartily.
"You'd better leave now, sir," said the constable firmly. "Before there's trouble, you know. Wouldn't want to get hurt."
"Heavens, no," said I. "I say, officer, could I just sit in that seat a mo'? Give one something to boast of, what?"