"Will you gimme a quid ?" "Certainly." "Well, where's the quid ?" The Admiral took a sovereign from his pocket.

"Here it is." "Then 'ere's the ticker!" The boy pointed to the clenched hand of the senseless woman.

A glimmer of gold shone out from between the fingers, and on opening them up, there was the Admiral's chronometer.

This interesting victim had throttled her protector with one hand, while she had robbed him with the other.
The Admiral left his address with the policeman, satisfied that the woman was only stunned, not dead, and then set off upon his way once more, the poorer perhaps in his faith in human nature, but in very good spirits none the less.

He walked with dilated nostrils and clenched hands, all glowing and tingling with the excitement of the combat, and warmed with the thought that he could still, when there was need, take his own part in a street brawl in spite of his three-score and odd years.
His way now led towards the river-side regions, and a cleansing whiff of tar was to be detected in the stagnant autumn air.