Didcott shook his head. "I don't know anything about it," he replied.
The policeman who had witnessed his haste had approached, and stood a silent spectator.
"You'd better take it to Scotland Yard," he observed at this point.
"Why, I knows it's 'is," said the cabman, aggrievedly.
"The gen'lman says it ain't," responded the policeman, judicially.
"Rats!" returned the cabman, plethorically.
Didcott stood miserably silent; he had got beyond his depth, and the conviction that his behaviour was asinine was growing more acute.
"I'll take it to the Yard," said the cabman, disgustedly, "and then I'll call at the 'ouse I picked 'im up at, and tell them."
"Oh, my goodness!" ejaculated Didcott, overwhelmed at the thought. The cabman and the policeman bent frowning brows on him.
"Beg pardon, sir," said the policeman, politely.