Bobbie’s fears proved groundless. Mr. Leigh went up the steps of the police station, where one or two uniformed men and a few men in plain clothes stood under the blue lamp, and these nodded to Mr. Leigh. Bobbie waited in the hall in order that, necessity arising, he might make swift escape, and Mr. Leigh, taking off his cap respectfully, tapped at a wooden window. The window opened; the face of an inspector appeared.
“Evenin’, sir,” said Mr. Leigh.
“Well, me man?”
“Nice bright, cold autumn weather, sir,” said Mr. Leigh, holding his cap between his teeth and finding the sheet of paper. “Soon be ’aving winter on us now.”
“I thought it had turned warmer,” said the inspector, taking a book down.
“P’raps you’re right, sir,” said Mr. Leigh obsequiously.
“I ought to remember your name,” said the inspector, turning over the pages of the book. “Begins with an L, don’t it?”
“You’re right again, sir. Name of Leigh—Abraham Leigh.”
“I’ve found it,” said the inspector, who had been running his finger down the page. “Got the ticket?”
Mr. Leigh passed in the sheet of letter paper, and the inspector, comparing it with the entry in the book, endorsed it.