“Nay, I’m not going to show my hand,” said the man. “Wait a bit, and you’ll see.”
“No; you speak out now,” cried Dick. “I won’t be suspected by any man. Do you mean to say Tom Tallington and I know?”
“Nay, I shall na speak till proper time comes. I know what I know, and I know what I’ve seen, and when time comes mebbe I shall speak, and not before.”
“He don’t know anything,” cried Tom, laughing. “He’s a regular sham.”
“Nay, I don’t know as boys steals out o’ windows at nights, and goes creeping along in the dark, and playing their games as other people gets the credit on. I don’t know nothing. Oh, no!”
“Why, you cowardly—”
Dick did not finish his speech, for at that moment Hickathrift stretched out one of his great arms, and his big hand closed with a mighty grip on the constable’s shoulder, making the man utter a sharp ejaculation.
“That’ll do,” he growled. “Yow shoot thee neb. Man as says owt again Mester Dick here’s saying things agen me.”
“What do you mean?” cried the constable. “Are you going to resist the law?”
“Nay, not I,” said Hickathrift. “I am a good subject o’ the king’s. God bless him! But if yow says owt more again Mester Dick, I’ll take thee by the scruff and pitch thee right out yonder into the bog.”