k.

'This man doesn't live in Whitechapel,' Mrs. Sarrasin said composedly.
She put on no air of triumph--she never put on any airs of triumph or
indeed airs of any kind.

'Well, there ain't no crime in giving a wrong address,' the man said.
'What business have you with where I live? You don't pay for my lodging,
anyhow.'

'Where were you born?' Mrs. Sarrasin asked.

'Why, in London, to be sure.'

'In the East End?'

'So I'm told--I don't myself remember.'

'Well, look here, will you just say a few words after me?'

'I ain't got no pertickler objection.'

The cross-examination now had passed wholly into the hands of Mrs.
Sarrasin. Captain Sarrasin looked on with wonder and delight--Ericson
was really interested and amused.

'Say these words.' She repeated slowly, and giving him plenty of time to
get the words into his ears and his mind, a number of phrases in which
the peculiar accent and pronunciation of the born Whitechapel man were
certain to come out. Ericson, of course, comprehended the meaning of the
whole performance. The East End man hesitated.

'I ain't here for playing tricks,' he mumbled. 'I want to be getting
home to my old woman.'

'Look here,' Sarrasin said, angrily interfering. 'You just do as you are
told, or I'll whistle for a policeman and give you into custody, and
then everything about you will come out--or, by Jove, I'll take you up
and drop you into that pond as if you were a blind kitten! Answer the
lady at once, you confounded scoundrel!'

The small eyes of the Whitechapel man flashed fire for an instant--a
fire that certainly is not common to Cockney eyes--and he made a sudden
grasp at his pocket.

'See there!' Sarrasin exclaimed. 'The ladies' slipper-maker is grasping
for his knife, and forgets that we have got it in our possession.'

'This is certainly becoming interesting,' Ericson said. 'It is much more
interesting than most plays that I have lately seen. Now, then, recite
after the lady, or confess thyself.'

It had not escaped the notice of the Dictator that when once or twice
some wayfarer passed along the bridge or on one of the near-lying paths
the maker of ladies' slippers did not seem in the least anxious to
attract attention. He appeared, in fact, to be the one of the whole
party who was most eager to withdraw himself from the importunate notice
of the casual passer-by. A man conscious of no wrong done or planned by
him, and unjustly bullied and badgered by three