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 when it would happen, but they intended to wait till something did happen. It might be for years or it might be forever, but they meant to be there when things began to occur.

Speculations became audible.

“Wot is it? ’Naccident?”

“Nah! Gent ’ad ’is pocket picked!”

“Two toffs ’ad a scrap!”

“Feller bilked the cabman!”

A skeptic made a cynical suggestion.

“They’re doin’ of it for the pictures.”

The idea gained instant popularity.

“’Jear that? It’s a fillum!”’

“Wot o’, Charlie!”

“The kemerer’s ’idden in the keb.”

“Wot’ll they be up to next!”

A red-nosed spectator, with a Lay of collar studs harnessed to his stomach, started another school of thought. He spoke with decision, as one having authority:

“Nothin’ of the blinkin’ kind! The fat un’s bin ‘avin’ one or two round the corner, and it’s gorn and got into ’is ’ead!”

The driver of the cab, who till now had been ostentatiously unaware that there was any sort of disturbance among the lower orders, suddenly became humanly inquisitive.

“What’s it all about?” he asked, swinging round and addressing George’s head.

“Exactly what I want to know,” said George. He indicated the collar-stud merchant. “The gentleman over there with the portable bargain counter seems to me to have the best theory.”

The stout young man, whose peculiar behavior had