“What yer mean with your ugly job?” said the man, laughing.
“You’ll know soon enough; you and four more are in trouble. Now then, what money have you got on you?”
“None ’tall.”
“Out with it.”
“Well, only two o’ these. I did have three,” grumbled the man, reluctantly taking out a couple of guineas from his pocket.
“Looks bad, sir,” said the constable. “Now then, where did you get them?”
“What’s that to you?”
“Enough for Mr Christmas to charge you with robbing his desk, my lad; and this and what I’ve got against you will send you to Botany Bay.”
“What, me? Rob a good master? Not a penny.”
“What have you done with the rest?” continued the constable.