who appeared, in their very fierceness, to counteract each other’s fire—each pulling the other back, seeming to get more and more ferocious the nearer their victim gained the door,—for, when the baited John reached it, he turned the handle of the lock behind him, still facing his
antagonists, intending to escape by a side lurch; but, just at that critical point, there came a knock of great importance at the outer door, as if the chimney were on fire, or a baby half out of window:—the enemy fell back—John opened the door, and, lo!—There discovered an officer of the Police Force, who wanted a word with John Brown!—John, feeling himself the Brown wanted, retreats into the kitchen, where he faints away, in a plate-basket, and stops the Dutch clock.
******
The Police Officer has had his word, or rather, word of words, with Mr. Brown:—news, said to be important, but of the wildest and most improbable character—news, appearing to that gentleman beyond all
belief—news, that he will not, can not, put faith in!—Allegations, so preposterous, that they may be disproved in a moment—“Captain de Camp, alias Boultoff, &c., &c., and three other persons, names unknown, now incarcerated in Dover Jail, for the robbery of John Brown, of Mizzlington”—a mistake—a foul plot—a base fiction!—At least, so thought the worthy gentleman, who was as ignorant of any wrong done him as the lunatic that resides in the moon. Had the sea-serpent been discovered in the back pond, a gold-mine been found in the dust-bin, or a Sphinx and Centaur been captured in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, Mr. Brown could not have been more astounded!—He knows it to be an imputation that can be disproved in a twinkling, if Mr. Police Inspector will just step next door with him; but, alas!—There the fox’s tail is left in the trap—the skirt of the very coat, borrowed of Mr. Brown, a fortnight since, hangs in the door,—the very door that slammed, when the affrighted gentleman awoke in a dream, last night.
******
The concluding facts of these eventful sixteen days are simply as follows:—to Mr. Spohf is the issue due—he was bound to spend the sabbath at Canterbury, with the cathedral and organ; upon the journey thither, he happened to recognise some fellow-travellers, better known to him than he was to them. From a slight conversation that transpired, he learned their destination to be Boulogne, or rather, Dover; so he stopped at Ashford, telegraphing their persons to Dover, where, upon arrival, they were provided with lodging free of expense; from that
place news was instantly sent to Mizzlington. Little did Mr. Brown think, that morning, as he combed out his matted, gummy, locks, that his friend Captain de Camp had lost his, under the cruel shears, in Dover Jail!
******