“I, sir,” said the visitor, rising with great dignity,—“I, sir, am of the great Bow Street Office, and my name is John Sharp!”
Mr. Stubmore nearly fell off his stool, his eyes rolled in his head, and his teeth chattered. Mr. Sharp perceived the advantage he had gained, and continued,—
“Yes, sir; and I could have much to say against that chap, who is nothing more or less than Dashing Jerry, as has ruined more girls and more tradesmen than any lord in the land. And so I called to give you a bit of caution; for, says I to myself, ‘Mr. Stubmore is a respectable man.’”
“I hope I am, sir,” said the crestfallen horse-dealer; “that was always my character.”
“And the father of a family?”
“Three boys and a babe at the buzzom,” said Mr. Stubmore pathetically.
“And he sha’n’t be taken in if I can help it! That ‘ere young man as I am arter, you see, knows Captain Smith—ha! ha!—smell a rat now—eh?”
“Captain Smith said he knew him—the wiper—and that’s what made me so green.”
“Well, we must not be hard on the youngster: ‘cause why? he has friends as is gemmen. But you tell him to go back to his poor dear relations, and all shall be forgiven; and say as how you won’t keep him; and if he don’t go back, he’ll have to get his livelihood without a carakter; and use your influence with him like a man and a Christian, and what’s more, like the father of a family—Mr. Stubmore—with three boys and a babe at the buzzom. You won’t keep him now?”
“Keep him! I have had a precious escape. I’d better go and see after the mare.”