"And you sold him laudanum?"
"Why—ah—"
"And you had sold him laudanum already this afternoon, you young rascal? How dare you, twice in six hours? I'll hold you responsible for the man's life!"
"You dare call me a rascal?" blusters the youth, terror-stricken at finding how much Tom knows.
"I am a member of the College of Surgeons," says Tom, recovering his coolness, "and have just been dining with Mr. Armsworth. I suppose you know him?"
The assistant shook in his shoes at the name of that terrible justice of the peace and of the war also; and meekly and contritely he replied,—
"Oh sir, what shall I do?"
"You're in a very neat scrape; you could not have feathered your nest better," says Tom, quietly filling his pipe, and thinking. "As you behave now, I will get you out of it, or leave you to—you know what, as well as I. Get your hat."
He went out, and the youth followed trembling, while Tom formed his plans in his mind.
"The wild beast goes home to his lair to die, and so may he; for I fear it's life and death now. I'll try the house where he was born. Somewhere in Water Lane it is I know."