"If it's you that says it, Mr. Jeremy, there can be no manner of doubt about it," says the landlord.
He appeared to hang on every word that the man from Bow Street uttered. That worthy gentleman who was by no means unaware of the impression he created, was at pains in a dozen little ways to heighten it. Now and then he would halt in a mysterious manner, wink and nod, and then continue in a truly oracular way. It was plain that he felt himself to be a man of a great reputation, and it would certainly be no fault of his if he failed to sustain it. Nor was he content to work on the mind of the landlord, but continually looked across at us to see what effect he was having on our susceptibilities. Observing this, I began at once to betray an interest in all he thought fit to say and do; an interest more exaggerated than the landlord's even, and certainly less sincere.
"Are you the great Mr. John Jeremy from Bow Street, sir?" says I at the first opportunity. I asked it in a voice of as much timidity as I could summon, as one astonished at his boldness.
Instead of replying, the gentleman from Bow Street closed his eyes in exquisite self-satisfaction, threw his head back against the wall and folded his arms across his chest.
"How can you ask?" says the landlord, replying for him. "Who else can he be? I should ha' thought your eyes would ha' told you that with one look at him."
"I am very proud to meet you, sir," says I, and added, turning to Cynthia: "Who would have thought it, Betsy, that you and I of all people would ever have met the great Mr. Jeremy from Bow Street in London."
"Don't mention it," says Mr. Jeremy, opening his eyes with vast condescension.
"Oh, Mr. Jeremy," says my little Cynthia, playing up to her part in the comedy with admirable instinct, "would you—could you let me have a peep at the—at the handcuffs?"
Mr. Jeremy needed no second invitation to exhibit the badges of his office. He took them from his pocket and laid them on the table with an air. And nothing would content Cynthia but she must rise from her seat, go over to the gentleman from Bow Street, and have the manacles clapped upon her wrists to see how they felt. Her curiosity was very prettily and justly simulated. It was done to the life, and no one could have been more pleased by it than Mr. Jeremy.
Not content with thrilling Cynthia with the handcuffs, the gentleman from Bow Street was anxious to impress everybody else. He presently produced the warrant for the wicked earl's arrest; also a handbill offering one hundred pounds reward for any information that should lead to the apprehension of the person whose full description was contained therein.