“Sure to,” said his wife, shaking her head.
“Go and buy one and see,” said the fireman, glancing at the baby. “I’ll look after it, but don’t be long.”
His wife went out and got a paper, and Mr. Pinner, who was unable to read, watched her anxiously as she looked through it. It was evident, at length, that his prowess of the previous evening had escaped being immortalised in print, and his spirits rose.
“I don’t s’pose he was much ’urt,” he said. “I dare say he wouldn’t like to tell ’em at the station he’d been knocked down. Some of’em don’t. I’ll just keep my eyes open when I’m out.”
“I don’t think you ought to go out,” said his wife
She picked up the paper again, and regarded him furtively. Then she bent over it, and slowly scanned the pages, until a sudden horrified gasp drove the roses from Mr. Pinner’s cheek and prepared him for the worst,
“Wot is it?” he stammered.
Mrs. Pinner folded the paper back and, motioning him to silence, read as follows:—
“A violent assault was committed last night on a policeman down at Wapping, who was knocked down by a seafaring man until he got concussion of the brain. The injured constable states that he can identify the man what attacked him, and has given a full description of him at the police-station, where search is now being made for ’im. The public-houses are being watched.”
“Ho, are they?” commented Mr. Pinner, much annoyed. “Ho, indeed.”