The constable repeated a caution to the ruffian who had ill-used them, and then took his departure, followed by Richard Markham.
When they were once more in the street, our hero said to his companion, "Who is that man?"
"The Public Executioner," was the reply.
CHAPTER CXXXIX.
THE CONFIDENCE.
So astounded was Markham by this information, that for some moments he was unable to utter a word.
"I see that you are surprised, sir," said the policeman; "but couldn't you guess where you was when you saw the room filled with gibbets, real or in pictures?"
"It never struck me who the owner of those terrific symbols might be," answered Richard. "I concluded that some man of morbid taste dwelt there; but not for one moment did I imagine that I was in the presence of the public executioner."
"Did you ever see such a horrible-looking object as his son is?" asked the policeman.
"Poor creature—he is greatly to be pitied! Surely his father cannot in reality have conferred upon him the name by which you called him?"
"I don't suppose that Gibbet is his real name, sir, but it is the only one I ever heard him called by. You see, sir, Smithers wishes to bring the lad up to the same line: he wants an assistant, and he thinks that Gibbet is old enough to help him. Besides, there's plenty of work always after Assizes in the country; and the London hangman may get the jobs if he likes. He's considered more skilful than any one else; and, after all, practice makes perfect. As it is, he is forced to refuse a good many offers, because he can't be here, there, and everywhere. Now if Gibbet would only take to the business kindly, he might help his father to earn a fortune!"