“Lord bless him!” said the old man.
“Nonsense—cunning!” said Mr. Power. “I hope you won’t let him impose upon you, sir.”
“No, he cannot impose upon me; I have a proof he is little prepared for,” said Mr. Trueman, producing the blue handkerchief in which the meat had been wrapped.
Tarlton turned pale; Hardy’s countenance never changed.
“Don’t you know this handkerchief, sir?”
“I do, sir.”
“Is it not yours?”
“No, sir.”
“Don’t you know whose it is?” cried Mr. Power. Hardy was silent.
“Now, gentlemen,” said Mr. Trueman, “I am not fond of punishing you; but when I do it, you know, it is always in earnest. I will begin with the eldest of you; I will begin with Hardy, and flog you with my own hands till this handkerchief is owned.”