“That’s the woman， that‘s the woman，” cried the fat man， pointing at Jadis. “Do your duty， Constable. Hundreds and thousands of pounds’ worth she‘s taken out of my shop. Look at that rope of pearls round her neck. That’s mine. And she‘s given me a black eye too， what’s more.”
“That she ‘as， guv’nor，” said one of the crowd. “And as lovely a black eye as I‘d wish to see. Beautiful bit of work that must ’ave been. Gor！ Ain‘t she strong then！”
“You ought to put a nice raw beefsteak on it， Mister， that’s what it wants，” said a butcher‘s boy.
“Now then，” said the most important of the policemen， “what’s all this ‘ere？”
“I tell you she.” began the fat man， when someone else called out：
“Don’t let the old cove in the cab get away. ‘E put ’er up toit.”
The old gentleman， who was certainly Uncle Andrew， had just succeeded in standing up and was rubbing his bruises. “Now then，” said the policeman， turning to him. “What‘s all this？”
“Womfle.pomfy.shomf，” came Uncle Andrew’s voice from inside the hat.
“None of that now，” said the policeman sternly. “You‘llfind this is no laughing matter. Take that ’at off， see？”