“Well!” cried Peace, with the utmost effrontery, “what are you stagging me for? Suppose I’m doing something on the cross, eh? You fellows can never let a chap alone. When he is disposed to be honest he’s hunted about like a wild beast because he was once in trouble.”
“Don’t you be so cheeky, my friend,” observed the sergeant. “I haven’t accused you of doing anything wrong, neither shall I, unless there is strong reason for my doing so. I only hope you are acting on the square; and if you take my advice you’ll continue to do so. You don’t suppose we—any of us—want to see you go wrong?”
“Well, then, you just leave me alone, and don’t be watching me about in the way you and others of your calling have been doing. I’m right enough. Have got a wife to look after, and don’t mean to get into trouble again, if I can help it.”
“I am glad to hear you say so,” returned the police officer. “And understand, Peace, that I shan’t interfere with you as long as you keep clear of the law. It does not afford me, or any of us, pleasure to get you into trouble.”
“Oh, doesn’t it?”
“No, certainly not. I tell you again to keep as straight as you can, stick to your business, and act on the square, and nobody will interfere with you.”
“I only ask you to leave me alone. I am all right enough now, but it isn’t any reason because I have been once in trouble that I should be for ever suspected, and watched or followed about.”
“I will take no notice of you provided you keep clear.”
“All right—that’s understood then,” cried Peace, in a cheery tone.
The police-sergeant made no further reply, but walked on at a steady, measured pace.