"No, I don't; I take you for Lynch, the man that stole my money, and I want a policeman to take you for that, too."
"See here, boy; I can't be annoyed in this manner in the public street," he replied, in a kind of confidential tone. "What do you want of me?"
"I told you what I wanted—my money."
"I know nothing about your money. If you want to see me, come to the Planters' Hotel at eight o'clock this evening, and I will meet you."
"I think not. I don't mean to lose sight of you, Lynch."
"If you don't clear out, I'll chastise you on the ground for an impudent puppy."
"Well, sir, when you get ready to chastise, you begin," I replied, as I glanced at his slender form. "If I don't keep up my end, you can have the money you stole."
"How dare you—"
But he checked himself, for two or three persons had already stopped; and their example was so contagious, in a populous city, that there was danger of collecting a crowd, to which my sensitive friend seemed to have very strong constitutional objections. He moved on, and I followed him into Market Street. I was anxious to meet a policeman, that I might state my case to him, and invoke his aid; but the officers, justifying all the traditions of their craft, were somewhere else, because they were wanted in Market Street.
Lynch quickened his pace, and turned into Fourth Street; but I kept close to his heels till we were near the Planters' Hotel. I concluded that he was going to this grand establishment, and that he expected to shake me off within its sumptuous walls. I did not believe he would, though the want of an officer was a sore inconvenience to me. Just as he was about to cross the street, a shabby genteel and very seedy gentleman confronted him.