He was likely to tell it quicker for not being questioned; your Cockney dislikes anything he can construe into inquisition.

I remarked that the road didn't seem made for speed--too narrow and too rough--and let it go at that.
He said no more until we reached the village of Bethany, and drew abreast of Lazarus' reputed tomb, where a pack of scavenger-dogs awoke and yelped around the wheels.

He did his best to run over one of them, but missed.

Then he could not hold his story any longer.
"Two nights ago," he said, "they gives me orders to take a Harab to a point near Jericho.

After dark, I starts off, 'im on the back seat; engine ain't warm yet, so we goes slow.