A pair of showy young men, exquisitely attired, with their exquisite attire cased in street mud, and their crops à-la-Titus filled with bits of straw, were brought up from one of the lower apartments (commonly called the Black "hole") in Covent-garden watch-house; where they had passed the night in doleful durance, merely because their appetites were in better order than their finances—or, in plain terms, because they had eaten more supper than they could pay for. They gave their names John Bright and Henry Walsh, gents.—the former of Queen's-square, and the latter of——"nowhere in particular." The following is the story of the little adventure which brought them under the surveillance of the police.
On Sunday night these gallants went into the Imperial Hotel, Piazza, Covent-garden, and asked if "Mr. Kecksy" was there. They were told that he was not; at which they expressed much surprise. They then ordered a "rite jollie supper;" and when it was ready they ate it up, washing it down with three bottles of prime old port. Nevertheless, they frequently cast an anxious eye towards the door, and talked from time to time of the unaccountable absence of "Mr. Kecksy." At length they became what is classically called "Bacchi plenus," and the landlord thought it was then time to send up the bill. He sent it up accordingly; but they tossed it in the waiter's face, and ordered him to send up the landlord, Mr. Joy. Mr. Joy obeyed their summons, and demanded to know their pleasure. "Joy, my hearty! you must put up this to Kecksy.—He invited us, and by G—d he shall pay," was the jovial reply. "Upon my word, gentlemen, this is too bad—Mr. Kecksy has not been here these many weeks; you are utter strangers to me, and I cannot think of letting you go without paying," replied Mr. Joy. "You can't!—then I'll tell you what, my old boy, we shall tip you the double and bolt, by all that's comical!" retorted one of the bucks. This kind of phraseology put their gentility quite out of the question with Mr. Joy, and without further ceremony he ordered one of his waiters to call in a watchman. This was a measure the supper-eaters had not calculated upon, and they became indignantly anxious to put their threat of "tipping him the double" into immediate practice; but Mr. Joy and his waiters opposed their retreat; upon which they threatened to kick Mr. Joy downstairs, and throw his waiters out of the window; and they had actually commenced proceedings in this way when the watchman made his appearance and took them in charge. They now moderated their choler a little, and proposed that somebody should accompany them home, where they would pay the bill. This was acceded to on the part of Mr. Joy, and an extra watchman agreed to accompany them, with one of the waiters, for that purpose. But they had scarcely left the hotel before they suddenly bolted in different directions, and would inevitably have tipped their pursuers the double at last, had it not been for the rattles of the watchmen. As it was, one of them was caught as he was scampering up Bow-street, and the other was found ingloriously concealed among the sheds in the market. Farther parley was not attempted on either side. They were forthwith conveyed to the watch-house, and there they conducted themselves so "obstropolously," that the constable of the night found it necessary to have them put down below, "instead of letting them sit by the fire like gentlemen."
This was the substance of the evidence for the prosecution, and the muddy watch-worn defendants were asked by the magistrates what they had to say to it.
They replied that they were actually invited to supper at that hotel, by their friend Mr. Kecksy, who was very well known to the landlord, and they fully expected he would have come in during the supper, or otherwise they would not have ordered the supper. They had, however, offered the landlord their address, and had assured him he should be paid in the morning.
"Then pay it now"—said the magistrate—"the morning is arrived!"
The defendants looked blank—and did not offer to pay.
Mr. Joy observed, that their story about Mr. Kecksy was a mere absurdity, as that gentleman was out of town.
"He is not out of town," said one of the supper-eaters, "for I saw him yesterday afternoon."
"The fact is, your worship, he is in the King's Bench prison," said Mr. Joy.
"That is false, Sir!—He is not," exclaimed the supper-eater.