d them.

I think I had done first, for I remember when I looked round the table
my fellow-guests were still eating and washing their suppers down with
economical draughts from the half-pint mugs of porter. They--I think I
may say we--did credit to the selection of the police sergeant, and, so
far as appearances went, fulfilled one of the requirements of Master
Watts, there being nothing of the rogue in our faces, if I except a
slight hint in the physiognomy of the little man with the fair hair
plastered down over his forehead, and perhaps I am prejudiced against
him.

It was a little after seven when the plates were all polished, the mugs
drained, and nothing but a few crumbs left to tell where a loaf had
stood. The pleasant young person coming in to clear the table, we drew
up round the fire, and for the first time in our more than two hours'
companionship began to exchange remarks.

They were of the briefest and most commonplace character, and attempts
made to get up a general conversation signally failed. "What do you
do?" "Where do you come from?" "Things hard down there?" were staple
questions, with an occasional "Did you hear tell of Joe Mackin on the
road?" or "Was Bill O'Brien there at the time?" From the replies to
these inquiries I learnt that my companions were respectively a fitter,
a painter, a waiter, and two indefinitely self-described as "labourers."
They had walked since morning from Faversham, from Sittingbourne, from
Gravesend, and from Greenwich, and, sitting close around the fire,
soon began to testify to their weariness by nodding, and even snoring.

"Well, lads, I'm off, goodnight," said the painter, yawning and
stretching himself out of the room.

One by one the remaining four quickly followed, and before what I had
on entering regarded as the absurdly early hour of eight o'clock had
struck, five of Watts's guests had gone to bed, and the sixth was
sitting looking drowsily in the fire, and thinking what a jolly
Christmas he was having.

I was awakened by a familiar voice inquiring whether I was "going to
sit up all night," and opening my eyes beheld the matron standing by me
with a shovelful of coal in one hand and a small jug in the other. Her
voice was sharp, but her look was kind, and I was not a bit surprised
when she threw the coal on the fire, and, putting down the jug, which
evidently contained porter, said she would bring a glass in a minute.

"I'm not going to bed myself for a bi