He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged. ’ ‘Woof!’ uttered the sergeant, jumping back. Spurling in alarm. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. "When a man reaches the lowest scale through drink, we call him a beachcomber. But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg.
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