“Why, you know very well that I didn’t so much as strike Jones, if you’d only say so. Now come, be honest, Blicker.”
“Will you go,” asked the constable, producing a pair of hand-cuffs, “without these?”
“O, yes, I’ll go,” said Comston in anguish. “Surely Blicker will tell the truth when he is put on his oath.”
And Comston was locked up in the jail.
CHAPTER XX.
THE PRISON.