"Well, Mum," he said gravely, "I wasn't exactly dry. Yer see, after the show sharp squalls set in from the Sou'-west, an' me 'avin' made fast to my mate's bow awnin', I 'adn't no claim to the umbereller. So I did get a bit soused round the superstructure, but not, so to speak, flooded right down to my propeller casins."
"Dear! dear! How truly terrible."
She relapsed into silence convulsively, while the old gentleman wheezed with great ferocity and muttered something about a good answer to a d——d silly question.
"A submarine, of course?" The thin man pursued his examination relentlessly.
"So we presoomed from events which 'appened later."
"Artful them blinkin'—beg pardon, ladies—pirits is," vouchsafed a man of toil from the far end of the 'bus; "my brother wot's——"
"All this occurred at night, I assume?" the old gentleman interrupted snappily.
"Yes, Sir, it was an evenin' performance." He glanced out into the murky night. "Put me down at Sydney Terrace," he said to the conductor.
"Wy, ye're there nah," grumbled that caustic individual as he jerked sharply at the bell-cord.
"Well," exclaimed the thin man as the sailor rose to go, "I congratulate you very heartily on your good luck—very heartily indeed!"