“Well, you’re a pretty scoundrel!” cried the doctor. “You dirty brute! Here, Hilt, old fellow, I should have him locked-up in a horse-box while you send for the police.”
“What!” shouted the tout, struggling up into a sitting position. “What for?”
“Burgling,” cried Sir Hilton.
“Not me, sir. I ain’t no burglar. Where’s my jemmies and dark lanthorns, and where’s the swag? I swear I ain’t touched a thing.”
“You may swear that if you like when you’re brought up before the Bench, where I’m chairman, as it happens.”
“Me—police—brought up before the Bench? You won’t do it, Sir Rilton. I knows too much.”
“What!” cried Sir Hilton and the doctor together, while the ladies exchanged glances.
“You don’t want the dirty linen washed in public,” said the tout, with a chuckle. “Her ladyship there said so.”
“Enough of this,” cried Lady Lisle, who had recovered herself. “Let this man be taken away and secured till the police come.”
The imperious words had their effect upon one who was present, Mark collaring the tout.