“What!” cried Sir Francis, hardly able to control his laughter. “Do you shrink?”
“Shrink! I should think I do. I’m all over in a cold perspiration, I am.”
“Then you’ll never do for an officer, sir. I’d advise you to stick by your last, and not interfere with other people’s affairs. Leave thief-takers to catch thieves. You’ll get all the danger, my friend, and none of the profit, in travelling from that you know to that you know nothing about.”
“I will—bless me! Make my will indeed! The very idea is dreadful, I—I wish you an uncommon good morning.”
“Good morning, Mr.—a—”
“Bruggles, your worship.”
“Bruggles—good morning.”
Sir Francis Hartleton enjoyed a hearty laugh at the shoemaker’s expense after he had left, and was shortly afterwards fully immersed in the active duties of his office.
CHAPTER LXXXIII.
Gray’s Peril.—A Peep into Domestic Affairs.—The Corpulent Lady.—The Man who Was Hung on Monday.