“Well! That beats anything! I suppose my word’s worth nothing. If you ask those who know me perhaps better than you do Mr. Philip Lawrence they’ll tell you I’m no liar. I say that he hit me like a coward, for nothing at all, and then took to his heels; and it was well for him he did, for if I do get within reach of him I’ll perhaps give him as good as he sent, though it’ll be after I’ve given him warning first. I’ll let you know, Dr. Hume, that though I am a porter I’m not going to let a gentleman knock me about as it suits him, even though he is a friend of yours; and I don’t think any the better of you for taking his part.”
Going up to Turner, I clapped him on the shoulder.
“That’s right! That’s how I like to hear a man speak out. Don’t think that I doubt you in one little jot or tittle. Mr. Philip Lawrence hit you like a coward because he was a coward. He was afraid of you; and had good reason for his fear, as Dr. Hume knows very well.”
“You—you——”
Hume stopped; looking as if he were allowing “he dare not” to wait upon “he would.”
“Well, Hume, go on. Your friend did not give Turner an opportunity to punish him for his bad behaviour. If you behave badly, I assure you that I shall avail myself of any chance which may offer to punish you. Pray finish the remark you were about to make.”
Hume said nothing. He did not even glance in my direction. But he looked at Turner, and walked out of the room.
“He looks like killing some one himself,” said Turner, when he was gone.
“I shouldn’t be surprised.”
I wonder how much he would have given, at that moment, to have made sure of killing me—for choice, upon the gallows.