|Title||The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists|
here to Elmore Road. You say you've got to get there at seven, and it's only a quarter to four now. Where do you live? What's your name?' Easton gave his name and address and began repeating the story about the clock having stopped.
`What you say may be all right or it may not,' interrupted the policeman. `I'm not sure but that I ought to take you to the station. All I know about you is that I find you loitering outside this shop. What have you got in that basket?'
`Only my breakfast,' Easton said, opening the basket and displaying its contents.
`I'm inclined to believe what you say,' said the policeman, after a pause. `But to make quite sure I'll go home with you. It's on my beat, and I don't want to run you in if you're what you say you are, but I should advise you to buy a decent clock, or you'll be getting yourself into trouble.'
When they arrived at the house Easton