“That’s what it is, sir,” replied the constable, coughing with great violence; for he had finished his ale in a hurry, and some of it had gone the wrong way.
“Here’s a house broken into,” said the doctor, “and a couple of men catch one moment’s glimpse of a boy in the midst of gunpowder-smoke, and in all the distraction of alarm and darkness. Here’s a boy comes to that very same house next morning, and because he happens to have his arm tied up, these men lay violent hands upon him; by doing which, they place his life in great danger, and swear he is the thief. Now, the question is, whether these men are justified by the fact; and if not, what situation do they place themselves in?”
The constable nodded profoundly, and said, that if that wasn’t law, he should be glad to know what was.
“I ask you again,” thundered the doctor, “are you, on your solemn oaths, able to identify that boy?”
Brittles looked doubtfully at Mr. Giles, Mr. Giles looked doubtfully at Brittles; the constable put his hand behind his ear to catch the reply; the two women and the tinker leant forward to listen; and the doctor glanced keenly round, when a ring was heard at the gate, and at the same moment, the sound of wheels.
“It’s the runners!” cried Brittles, to all appearance much relieved.
“The what!” exclaimed the doctor, aghast in his turn.
“The Bow-street officers, sir,” replied Brittles, taking up a candle; “me and Mr. Giles sent for ’em this morning.”
“What!” cried the doctor.