He ran hard for a quarter of a mile, and at the end of that distance it
began to be borne in upon him as a strange and curious thing that there
were so few people about, and that there were no shops open. It was
certainly a very dark and foggy morning, but still it seemed an unusual
course to stop all business on that account. HE had to go to business:
why should other people stop in bed merely because it was dark and foggy!
At length he reached Holborn. Not a shutter was down! not a bus was
about! There were three men in sight, one of whom was a policeman; a
market-cart full of cabbages, and a dilapidated looking cab. George
pulled out his watch and looked at it: it was five minutes to nine! He
stood still and counted his pulse. He stooped down and felt his legs.
Then, with his watch still in his hand, he went up to the policeman, and
asked him if he knew what the time was.
"What's the time?" said the man, eyeing George up and down with evident
suspicion; "why, if you listen you will hear it strike."
George listened, and a neighbouring clock immediately obliged.
"But it's only gone three!" said George in an injured tone, when it had
finished.
