_Pol._ (_turning on him with awful dignity_). I don't want no suggestions from _you_, Sir. I know _my_ dooty, and them as tries to obstruck me'll get no good by it. I'm not 'ere to take one man's part more than another. _Cabman._ Well, ain't you goin' to do something now you _are_ here? What's the good of a Copper if he won't 'elp a man to git his rights, eh? [_Murmurs of sympathy from Crowd._ _Pol._ Now, you mind _your_self--that's what _you_'d better do, or _you_'ll be gitting into trouble next! I've told you I can't interfere one way or the other; and--(_generally, to Crowd_)--you must pass along 'ere, please, or I shall 'ave to make yer. _Crowd_ (_to Eld. G._). Give the man his money, can't yer? Pay 'im! _Cabman._ Come, look sharp! Just you pay me! _The E. G._ How c'n I pay, man? P'fectly 'shurd! Go to bleeshes! [_Bolts again, and is once more overtaken by the indignant Cabman._ _Pol._ (_following up_). Now, then, Cabman, don't go hustling him! [_Crowd's sympathy veers round to the E. G. again._ _Cabman._ _'Oo's_ 'ustlin'? I ain't laid a finger on 'im. (_Magnanimously._) I've no wish to 'inder 'im from going wherever he likes, so long as he pays me fust! _Pol._ You've no right to touch the man, nor yet his bag; so be careful, that's all I tell you! _The E. G._ (_with maudlin enthusiasm_). Pleeshman's perfelly ri'! Pleeshman always knowsh besht! [_Tries to pat Policeman on back._ _Pol._ (_his disgust reaching a climax_). 'Ere, don't you go pawin' _me_ about--for I won't '_ave_ it! If _I'm_ right, it's more than what _you_ are, anyhow! Now be off with you, wherever it is you're going to! _Cabman_ (_desperate_). But look 'ere--can't you take his name and address? _Pol._ (_rising to the occasion_). Ah! that's what I was waitin' for! Now you've _ast_ me--now I kin _act_! (_Pulls out a pocket-book full of dirty memoranda, and a stumpy pencil._) Now then, Sir, your name, if _you_ please? _The E. G._ (_sleepily_). Shtupid thing a-do, but qui' forgot.... Come out 'ithout mi' name, 'shmornin'! _Pol._ (_sternly_). That won't do with Me, you know. What's your name? Out with it! _The E. G._ (_evidently making a wild shot at it_). FERGUSHON. [_Smiles, as if he feels sure the Policeman will be pleased with a name like that_. _Pol._ JOHN? GEORGE? JAMES?--or what? _The E. G._ You can purr 'em all down t' me--it don' marrer! _Pol._ (_briskly_). Where do you live, Mr. FERGUSON? _The E. G._ (_mechanically_). Shirty-one, Lushington Street, Gargleshbury Park. _Pol._ (_writing it down, and giving leaf to Cabman_). There, will _that_ do for you? _Cabman._ That's all _I_ want. (_To the E. G._) You'll 'ear from me later on. _The E. G._ (_affectionately_). Alwaysh pleash'd shee you, any time.... Pleeshman too.... Shorry can't shtop--mos' 'portant bishnish! _Pol._ Which way do you want to go? _The E. G._ Earlsh Court. _Pol._ Then get there, if you're capable of it. And now, you boys, clear the road, will you?