Quickly he developed into the acknowledged champion of all ancient English characteristics, customs, prejudices and ideals.
It was this habit of mind that led to the revolver.
He saw the revolver prominent in the window of Stetton's, the pawnbroker in Crown Square, and the notion suddenly occurred to him that a fine old English gentleman could not be considered complete without a revolver. He bought the weapon, which Stetton guaranteed to be first-rate and fatal, and which was, in fact, pretty good. It seemed to the alderman bright, complex and heavy. He had imagined a revolver to be smaller and lighter; but then he had never handled an instrument more dangerous than a razor. He hesitated about going to his cousin's, Joe Keats, the ironmonger; Joe Keats always laughed at him as if he were a farce; Joe would not be ceremonious, and could not be corrected because he was a relative and of equal age with the alderman. But he was obliged to go to Joe Keats, as Joe made a speciality of cartridges. In Hanbridge, people who wanted cartridges went as a matter of course to Joe's. So Alderman Keats strolled with grand casualness into Joe's, and said:
"I say, Joe, I want some cartridges."
"What for?" the thin Joe asked.
"A barker," the alderman replied, pleased with this word, and producing the revolver.
"Well," said Joe, "you don't mean to say you're going about with that thing in your pocket, you?"
"Why not?"
"Oh! No reason why not! But you ought to be preceded by a chap with a red flag, you know, same as a steam-roller."
And the alderman, ignoring this, remarked with curt haughtiness: