"A key?" said Mr. Toft, relieved, though much surprised.
"The key of the plate chest of the Fellmongers' Company."
Mr. Toft raised his eyebrows. "You're joking," he said.
"Do I look like a joker?" replied his companion fiercely. "Do I look like a joker?" he repeated loudly, banging his fist on the table so that all turned their eyes in the direction of the noise. Mr. Toft implored him to restrain his feelings.
"Don't rouse 'em then!" said the man. "Have you got the key on you?"
"Er—yes," responded Mr. Toft.
"Then hand it over."
"My dear sir," began the unhappy Septimus.
"I'm not your dear anything," said the other; "so don't you pretend that I am. I'm as meek and pleasant as a cow to those that treat me fair and square, but when I'm irritated I'm a roarin' bull. Hand me the key."
"I can't."