“Course I ’ave.”
Mr. Leigh took from his inside pocket a sheet of paper about the size of an ordinary letter; he replaced it in an envelope and led Bobbie out of the house. In Kingsland Road they turned to the right. Opposite were the low almshouses standing in their own grounds and protected by a low iron spiked wall. The two went towards Shoreditch.
“Where are we going to book to?” asked Bobbie, “when we get to the station?” Mr. Leigh did not answer. “Going for ride in the train, ain’t we?”
“No!”
“What station are we going to, then?”
“Police station.”
“’Ere,” said the boy, stopping. “None of your ’alf larks.’
“You’re all right, kiddy.”
“What’s the row, then?”
“No row,” said Mr. Leigh. “Slight fermality, that’s all.”