“To the pier, my Haddock, and then back to the turnpike gate, and if you let a yell, or signal a policeman, I’ll twist your little neck. Fancy our Haddock in a vulgar street row with a common soldier and in the Police Court! Step it out, you worm!”
Then the agonized Haddock dropped pretence.
“Oh, Dam, I’m awf’ly sorry. I apologize, old chap. Let up—I say—this is awful…. Good God, here’s Lady Plonk, the Mayor’s wife!”
“You shall introduce me, Lovely One—but no, we mustn’t annoy ladies. You must not go trying to introduce your low companions—nay, relations—to Lady Plonkses. Step out—and look happy.”
“Dam—for God’s sake, let me go! I didn’t know you, old chap. I swear I didn’t. The disgrace will kill me. I’ll give you—”
“Look here, wee Fish, you offer me money again and I’ll—I’ll undress you and run away with your clothes. I will, upon my soul.”
“I shall call to this policeman,” gasped the Haddock.
“And appear with your low-class relation in Court? Not you, Haddock. I’d swear you were my twin brother, and that you wouldn’t pay me the four pence you borrowed of me last week.”
And the cruel penance was inflicted to the last inch. Near the end the Haddock groaned: “Here’s Amelia Harringport—Oh! my God,” and Dam quickly turned his face unto the South and gazed at the fair land of France. He remembered that General Harringport dwelt in these parts.
At the toll-gate Dam released the perspiration-soaked wretch, who had suffered the torments of the damned, and who seemed to have met every man and woman whom he knew in the world as he paraded the promenade hanging lovingly to the arm of a common soldier! He thought of suicide and shuddered at the bare idea.