"Yes—and be Jasus!" vociferated Captain O'Blunderbuss: "what does this mane? Have ye had recourse to the dirthy expadient of getting constables to come for-ar-rd to spile the purtiest little affair that was ever to come off on a misty mornin'?"
"It don't mean nothink of the kind, Captain," said Mr. Mac Grab gruffly: then, as with a side glance he convinced himself that his follower Proggs was now only a few paces distant in the rear of the warlike Irishman, he continued thus:—"The fact is, I'm a hofficer—and you're my prisoner."
"An officer-r-r!" vociferated Captain O'Blunderbuss, his countenance becoming actually purple with rage, while Frank Curtis, suddenly assured that all prospects of a duel were at an end, began to enjoy the scene amazingly.
"Yes, sir—this person is an officer," said Mr. Howard, in the calmest manner possible; "and I am the attorney for the plaintiff—Mr. Spriggins—at whose suit you are now captured for three hundred and forty-seven pounds, including costs."
"Blood and thunther-r!" roared Captain O'Blunderbuss, swelling so tremendously with passion that he seemed as if about to burst through his military frock-coat with its frogs and braidings: "this is a rale insult not ounly to me, but also to ould Ireland. Mor-r-thaunt, my boy——"
"It's a very awkward business, Captain," said the gentleman thus appealed to. "But I do not see why it should prevent the business on which we met. Pistols first—prison afterwards."
"That won't do," said Mr. Mac Grab.
"Not a bit," growled Proggs, who was now stationed close behind the Captain.
"Bastes of the ear-rth!" roared O'Blunderbuss: "do——"
"Come now—enough of this gammon," interrupted Mac Grab. "If you won't walk quiet off with us, we must see what force will do."