‘Sir,’ replied Mr Tappertit, with a contemptuous look, ‘I wonder at YOUR assurance in making such demands.’
‘You have been drinking,’ said the locksmith.
‘As a general principle, and in the most offensive sense of the words, sir,’ returned his journeyman with great self-possession, ‘I consider you a liar. In that last observation you have unintentionally—unintentionally, sir,—struck upon the truth.’
‘Martha,’ said the locksmith, turning to his wife, and shaking his head sorrowfully, while a smile at the absurd figure beside him still played upon his open face, ‘I trust it may turn out that this poor lad is not the victim of the knaves and fools we have so often had words about, and who have done so much harm to-day. If he has been at Warwick Street or Duke Street to-night—’
‘He has been at neither, sir,’ cried Mr Tappertit in a loud voice, which he suddenly dropped into a whisper as he repeated, with eyes fixed upon the locksmith, ‘he has been at neither.’
‘I am glad of it, with all my heart,’ said the locksmith in a serious tone; ‘for if he had been, and it could be proved against him, Martha, your Great Association would have been to him the cart that draws men to the gallows and leaves them hanging in the air. It would, as sure as we’re alive!’
Mrs Varden was too much scared by Simon’s altered manner and appearance, and by the accounts of the rioters which had reached her ears that night, to offer any retort, or to have recourse to her usual matrimonial policy. Miss Miggs wrung her hands, and wept.
‘He was not at Duke Street, or at Warwick Street, G. Varden,’ said Simon, sternly; ‘but he WAS at Westminster. Perhaps, sir, he kicked a county member, perhaps, sir, he tapped a lord—you may stare, sir, I repeat it—blood flowed from noses, and perhaps he tapped a lord. Who knows? This,’ he added, putting his hand into his waistcoat-pocket, and taking out a large tooth, at the sight of which both Miggs and Mrs Varden screamed, ‘this was a bishop’s. Beware, G. Varden!’
‘Now, I would rather,’ said the locksmith hastily, ‘have paid five hundred pounds, than had this come to pass. You idiot, do you know what peril you stand in?’
‘I know it, sir,’ replied his journeyman, ‘and it is my glory. I was there, everybody saw me there. I was conspicuous, and prominent. I will abide the consequences.’