The Constable looked doubtfully at Mr. Merridew, whom he knew by sight, as everybody connected with the criminal part of the law certainly did: he knew him as Sheriff's officer, nominally: thief-taker by secret profession: thief-maker, as matter of notoriety at the Courts. From him he looked at Mr. Probus, but more doubtfully, because he knew nothing about him except that he was an attorney, which means to such people as the Constable, devil incarnate. He also looked doubtfully at the Captain, whose face, perhaps, he knew. Considering that the Captain had been living for eight years at least in and about St. Giles's, and robbing about all the roads that run out of London, perhaps the Constable did know him by sight. 'Well,' he said, 'I suppose Sir John will look into it to-morrow. As for this gentleman who says he is----I remember----' Here Mr. Probus slipped something into his hand. 'It is not for me,' the worthy Constable added, 'to remember anything. Besides, I may be wrong. Well, gentlemen, you will all attend to-morrow morning at Bow Street and give your evidence before Sir John Fielding.' So they went away and I lay on the floor still wondering stupidly what would happen next. Just then two watchmen came in. One was leading, or dragging, or carrying a young gentleman richly dressed but so drunk that he could neither stand nor speak: the other brought with him a poor creature--a woman--young--only a girl still--dressed in rags and tatters; shivering: unwashed; uncombed; weak and emaciated: a deplorable object. The Constable turned to the first case. 'Give the gentleman a chair,' he said. 'Put him before the fire. Reach me his watch and his purse. Search his pockets, watchman.' 'Please your honour,' said the watchman, 'I have searched his pockets. We came too late, Sir. Nothing in them.' 'The town is full of villains--full of villains,' said the officer, with honest indignation. 'Well, put him in the chair. A gentleman can send for guineas if he hasn't got any guineas. Did he assault you, watchman? I thought so--Well--Let him sleep it off. Who's this woman?' The watchman deposed to finding her walking about the deserted streets because she had nowhere to go. 'Has she got any money? Then just put her in the strong room--and carry this poor devil in after her. If that story holds--well--lay him on the bench--and take care of his head.' They pushed the girl into the strong-room: carried me after her: laid me down on a wide stone bench without any kind of pillow or covering. Then they went out locking the door behind them.