"What the devil are ye all staring at?"
It was at this very moment that Master Inch suddenly caught sight of him, just in the very middle of a stentorian,—
"Oyez!"
He gave one tremendous gasp, the bell dropped out of his hand, his jaw fell, his round, beady eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
"'Tis him!" murmured the yokel, who stood close to his ear.
This remark brought back Master Inch to his senses and to the importance of his position. He raised his large hand above his head and brought it down with a tremendous clap on Sir Humphrey Challoner's shoulder.
"Aye! 'tis him!" he shouted lustily, "and be gy! he's got guilt writ all over his face, and 'tis a mighty ugly surface!"
Sir Humphrey, taken completely by surprise, was positively purple with rage.
"Death and hell!" he cried, clutching his riding-whip significantly. "What's the meaning of this?"
But already the younger men, full of excitement and eagerness, had closed round him, impeding his movements, whilst two more lusty fellows incontinently seized him by the collar. They felt neither respect nor sympathy for a vagabond attired in gentleman's clothes.