"'Ere 'e is!" she shrieked. "'Ere's the villain as 'as murdered my Bobby."
"G-arh!" snarled the crowd.
"Spy!" said somebody.
"Kidnaper!" growled somebody else.
"'Ound!" quavered a trembling old voice belonging to a rheumatic and usually bedridden octogenarian on the outskirts of the crowd.
Alf paused irresolutely. He did not need to be told that he was in quite an ugly corner. Mrs. Myers came forward, brandishing the meat-ax. Alf gave back in alarm.
"Where's my Bobby?" she demanded.
"I dunno, mum," said Alf ingratiatingly. "But if you'll just let me pass I'll go an' get 'im for you."
"Ho, yes! A nice game! No, my man, you'll stay 'ere till I get my Bobby back, or I'll know the reason why."