“Come, you know,” said the sergeant; “I see you won’t be happy till you’ve done some one a mischief with that pretty little plaything. Oh, he was your footman, was he, and you discharged him for drunkenness, did you, a month ago? Well, I’m not surprised a bit.”
Just then three of our men came in, and they walked off our two gaol-birds at once, and then I got hold of the sergeant’s arm, and found I could walk.
“Take a little more brandy,” said the old gentleman, and he poured out with a shaking hand about half a wine-glassful, when after I had drunk it he said again:
“You’re a brave fellow, and there’s something to drink my health with.”
I thanked him, and then we two walked out together, and stood on the pavement amongst the snow, listening to the old gentleman and the servants locking and bolting the door after us.
“Well,” said the sergeant; “I think, my lad, we’ve done our night’s work, and after reporting at the station, we’ll go off duty for a day or two; for my head is in a queer state,” and then he lifted his hat, pressed his hand upon it, and looked at the blood-smeared palm under the lamp. “But what did the old fellow give you?”
I opened my hand and looked, for I had not cared to look before; in fact, I was so stupid then, and dizzy, that I felt no interest in the money.
“Just what I expected,” exclaimed the sergeant; “Sixpence! Well, some men have consciences.”
It was a week before the sergeant was pronounced fit for duty, but it took me a fortnight to get right; while our friends had fourteen years each. I’ve often thought of the way I spent that Christmas-night—the roughest I ever did pass; but then you see, there was a Lady in the Case.