“Get out! don’t ’ee think to bullyrag me. If ye gi’ me any more of yer nonsense, I’ll chuck ’ee forth, and send ’ee about yer business. Take the fellow’s things, and be off while ye’ve got a whole skin.”
“What! threats?” cried Bradley, putting himself into a military and defiant attitude. “Mr. Ashbrook, I am surprised. I will not depart without an answer.”
“An answer to what?”
“Respecting the proposed hostile meeting. But I pardon you—you do not understand the usages of polite society. Permit me to explain.”
“I want none of yer explanations. Don’t care to listen to such rubbish. So ye’d better be off.”
“Then am I to say you decline to meet my friend Fortescue?”
“Fortescue!” cried the farmer, with a sneer. “He’s no more Fortescue than I am. Don’t ’ee come here wi’ any more cock-and-bull stories. Why, he’s a thief, and the p’leece are arter him. If I were to appoint a place of meeting, he’d be collered and clapped into gaol. Do you see that, my brave captain?”
Mr. Bradley was rather taken aback at this speech. He also had the honour of being well acquainted with the police, and he thought that it was therefore quite time to lower his tone. He assumed for the nonce an air of injured innocence.
“Mr. Ashbrook,” said he, “I put it to yourself as an honourable man whether you think it the right thing to cast aspersions upon a gentleman when he is not here to answer you. I do hope and trust that you have not so bad an opinion of me as to suppose for a moment I would lend myself to so dishonourable a proceeding as to espouse the cause of a disreputable character. In common justice you ought to offer an apology, and express your sorrow for making such indiscreet observations.”
“Look ’ee here—you can go back to London, and tell this friend of yours that he is found out. His real character is known here. The p’leece will gi’ee more information respecting him than I can. He’s a bad egg if there ever was one, and as to this, well, there—”