“You have him there and no mistake,” cried one.
“So you charge her then?” again repeated the policeman.
“Yes; do your duty,” returned the draper majestically, “sawing the air” with his right arm.
“You must come with me to the station-house,” said the constable, addressing himself to Miss Stanbridge.
She bowed her head without speaking, and walked quietly by his side.
“I should like to land him one on his nose,” said the navigator to a companion in the crowd. “That’s what I should like to do.”
“What’s that you are saying? Have a care,” cried a ci-devant detective. “If you don’t you will get yourself into trouble, my man.”
“Ugh! he aint worth getting into trouble for,” answered the navigator; “so I shall step it. Make your mind easy, old penny-three-farthings a yard. I hope she’ll be discharged by the beak.” And with these words the knight of the pick and spade took himself off.
“I should say she’s an old hand,” observed the detective. This is a conclusion they generally arrive at in cases of this sort.
“Why is she an old hand?” inquired a butcher of the town. “Tell us that. Do you know her?”