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An' if I ketch you 'angin' about 'ere, annoyin' 'er or anybody else I'll 'it you on the jawr, see, an' then I'll 'and you over to the police. An' that'll learn you!" John stared at the man. "Do you mean to say?..." "I mean to say wot I 'ave said," the liftman interjected. "An' I don't mean to say no more. 'Op it. That's all. Or it'll be the worse for you!"
"Since the flowers o' the forest are a' wed awa." "'Old yer jawr," yelled Mother Guttersnipe, rising, and making a dart at the bed. "I'll choke the life out ye, s'elp me. D'y want me to murder ye, singin' 'em funeral things?" Meanwhile the detective was talking rapidly to Mr. Calton. "The only person who can prove Mr.
"She's allays a-talkin' of dyin' an' gallers, as if they were nice things to jawr about." "Who was that woman who died here three or four weeks ago?" asked Kilsip, sharply. "'Ow should I know?" retorted Mother Guttersnipe, sullenly. "I didn't kill 'er, did I? It were the brandy she drank; she was allays drinkin', cuss her." "Do you remember the night she died?"
It looked like an old toothbrush which has had desperate adventures in an overpacked travelling bag. This hirsute anomaly Mr. McCorquodale now stroked complacently, enjoying the effect of his surprising speech. "The reason I beats it just now," he went on, "is 'cause I thought 'twas Long Jawr, the butler, as was after me. I gotta keep incog with the servants, see.
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