A Damsel in Distress

"Surely not?" said George.

"What the devil do you mean--surely not?"

"I've been in the cab all the time, and I should have noticed it."

At this juncture the block in the traffic was relieved, and the cab

bowled smartly on for some fifty yards when it was again halted.

George, protruding from the window like a snail, was entertained by

the spectacle of the pursuit. The hunt was up. Short of throwing

his head up and baying, the stout young man behaved exactly as a

bloodhound in similar circumstances would have conducted itself. He

broke into a jerky gallop, attended by his self-appointed

associates; and, considering that the young man was so stout, that

the messenger boy considered it unprofessional to hurry, that the

shop girl had doubts as to whether sprinting was quite ladylike,

and that the two Bohemians were moving at a quicker gait than a

shuffle for the first occasion in eleven years, the cavalcade made

good time. The cab was still stationary when they arrived in a

body.

"Here he is, guv'nor," said the messenger boy, removing a bead of

perspiration with the rush message.

"Here he is, guv'nor," said the non-smoking Bohemian. "What oh!"

"Here I am!" agreed George affably. "And what can I do for you?"

The smoker spat appreciatively at a passing dog. The point seemed

to him well taken. Not for many a day had he so enjoyed himself. In

an arid world containing too few goes of gin and too many

policemen, a world in which the poor were oppressed and could

seldom even enjoy a quiet cigar without having their fingers

trodden upon, he found himself for the moment contented, happy, and

expectant. This looked like a row between toffs, and of all things

which most intrigued him a row between toffs ranked highest.

"R!" he said approvingly. "Now you're torkin'!"

The shop girl had espied an acquaintance in the crowd. She gave

tongue.

"Mordee! Cummere! Cummere quick! Sumfin' hap'nin'!" Maudie,

accompanied by perhaps a dozen more of London's millions, added

herself to the audience. These all belonged to the class which will

gather round and watch silently while a motorist mends a tyre. They

are not impatient. They do not call for rapid and continuous

action. A mere hole in the ground, which of all sights is perhaps

the least vivid and dramatic, is enough to grip their attention for

hours at a time. They stared at George and George's cab with

unblinking gaze. They did not know what would happen or when it

would happen, but they intended to wait till something did happen.

It might be for years or it might be for ever, but they meant to be

there when things began to occur.