Eagerly the man in the shirt fell on them, and turned the ragged pockets inside out.

From one of the windows a hilarious voice made some facetious remark, as the tramp with equal solemnity began divesting himself of his nether garments.
"'Now then, stop that nonsense,' pronounced D 21 severely, 'what were you doing here this time o' night, anyway ?' "'The streets o' London is free to the public, ain't they ?' queried the tramp.
"'This don't lead nowhere, my man.' "'Then I've lost my way, that's all,' growled the man surlily, 'and p'raps you'll let me get along now.' "By this time a couple of constables had appeared upon the scene.

D 21 had no intention of losing sight of his friend the tramp, and the man in the shirt had again made a dash for the latter's collar at the bare idea that he should be allowed to 'get along.' "I think D 21 was alive to the humour of the situation.

He suggested that Robertson (the man in the night-shirt) should go in and get some clothes on, whilst he himself would wait for the inspector and the detective, whom D 15 would send round from the station immediately.
"Poor Robertson's teeth were chattering with cold.

He had a violent fit of sneezing as D 21 hurried him into the house.