Thorndyke wrote down the cabman’s statement verbatim together with his own questions, and then asked: 

“Can you give us any description of the gentleman?”

“The gent,” said Wilkins, was a very respectable-looking gent, though he did look as if he’d had a drop of something short, and small blame to him on a day like that.  But he was all there, and he knew what was the proper fare for a foggy evening, which is more than some of ’em do.  He was a elderly gent, about sixty, and he wore spectacles, but he didn’t seem to be able to see much through ’em.  He was a funny ’un to look at; as round in the back as a turtle and he walked with his head stuck forward like a goose.”

“What made you think he had been drinking?”

“Well, he wasn’t as steady as he might have been on his pins.  But he wasn’t drunk, you know.  Only a bit wobbly on the plates.”

“And the lady; what was she like?”

“I couldn’t see much of her because her head was wrapped up in a sort of woollen veil.  But I should say she wasn’t a chicken.  Might have been about the same age as the gent, but I couldn’t swear to that.  She seemed a trifle rickety on the pins too; in fact they were a rum-looking couple.  I watched ’em tottering across the pavement and up the stairs, hanging on to each other, him peering through his blinkers and she trying to see through her veil, and I thought it was a jolly good job they’d got a nice sound cab and a steady driver to bring ’em safe home.”

“How was the lady dressed?”

“Can’t rightly say, not being a hexpert.  Her head was done up in this here veil like a pudden in a cloth and she had a small hat on.  She had a dark brown mantle with a fringe of beads round it and a black dress; and I noticed when she got into the cab at the station that one of her stockings looked like the bellows of a concertina.  That’s all I can tell you.”

Thorndyke wrote down the last answer, and, having read the entire statement aloud, handed the pen to our visitor.

“If that is all correct,” he said, “I will ask you to sign your name at the bottom.”

“Do you want me to swear a affidavy that it’s all true?” asked Wilkins.

“No, thank you,” replied Thorndyke.  “We may have to call you to give evidence in court, and then you’ll be sworn; and you’ll also be paid for your attendance.  For the present I want you to keep your own counsel and say nothing to anybody about having been here.  We have to make some other inquiries and we don’t want the affair talked about.”

“I see, sir,” said Wilkins, as he laboriously traced his signature at the foot of the statement; “you don’t want the other parties for to ogle your lay.  All right, sir; you can depend on me.  I’m fly, I am.”

“Thank you, Wilkins,” said Thorndyke.  “And now what are we to give you for your trouble in coming here?”

“I’ll leave the fare to you, sir.  You know what the information’s worth; but I should think ’arf a thick-un wouldn’t hurt you.”