Mr. Tupman gasped a faint affirmative, looking very hard at Mr. Pickwick all the while.
“That person was your companion,” said the Doctor, pointing to the still unmoved stranger.
Mr. Tupman admitted the fact.
“Now, sir,” said the Doctor to the stranger, “I ask you once again, in the presence of these gentlemen, whether you choose to give me your card, and to receive the treatment of a gentleman; or whether you impose upon me the necessity of personally chastising you on the spot?”
“Stay, sir,” said Mr. Pickwick, “I really cannot allow this matter to go any further without some explanation. Tupman, recount the circumstances.”
Mr. Tupman, thus solemnly adjured, stated the case in a few words; touched slightly on the borrowing of the coat; expatiated largely on its having been done “after dinner;” wound up with a little penitence on his own account; and left the stranger to clear himself as best he could.
He was apparently about to proceed to do so, when Lieutenant Tappleton, who had been eyeing him with great curiosity, said with considerable scorn—“Haven’t I seen you at the theatre, sir?”
“Certainly,” replied the unabashed stranger.
“He is a strolling actor!” said the Lieutenant, contemptuously; turning to Dr. Slammer—“He acts in the piece that the Officers of the 52nd get up at the Rochester Theatre to-morrow night. You cannot proceed in this affair, Slammer—impossible!”