“Now then,” he cried in an angry tone, “you know what I told you.”
“What! may’n’t I amuse myself here then?” argued the young man, perfectly unmoved.
“We’ve had enough of this,” answered the constable. “Since you are determined to get yourself into trouble, don’t blame me.”
He lifted up the obstinate little fool, collared him, and dragged him along towards the station-house. As he did so a crowd of persons followed and abused him. Another constable came up, and the prisoner was locked up.
In the morning he was taken before the magistrate at Marlborough-street, and fined.
This little incident is one of the many scenes enacted by brainless fellows with more money than wits. It is an actual fact, and was reported in the papers of the period, in addition to which it came under the writer’s own observation.
“There are a good many fools in the world, and that fellow is one of them,” said Kempshead; “but I’ve another little place I want you to visit. Come this way.”
The speaker turned down Jermyn-street. He was followed by Peace. The two arrived in front of a house on the left side of the street in question, which to all appearance was a coffee-shop. It was a great unobtrusive-looking establishment, with ground-glass windows in its front, on which were inscribed the words “Coffee Room.”
“This little drum is worth seeing,” said Kempshead. “No one but the initiated would dream that such a place existed.”
The two went down a narrow passage, and reached a pair of small folding doors. Peace’s companion opened one of them, and said to a man inside, “All right, Sam.”