"My own house, you scoundrels; you found me in my own house!"
Here the whole mob of policemen simultaneously, and as if with one voice, shouted—"It's a lie, it's a lie. We found him in Mr. Thomson's."
"How do you explain this, doctor?" said Mr. Thomson mildly, although beginning—he couldn't help it—to think rather queerly of the doctor.
"Why, why," replied the crest-fallen and perplexed doctor, "if I really have been in your house, Mr. Thomson, although I can't believe it, I must, I must—in fact, I must have mistaken it for my own. To tell a truth, I came home rather cut last night; and it is possible, quite possible, although I can hardly think probable, that I may have taken your house for my own. That's the fact," added the doctor, with something like an appeal to the lenity of the person whose rights he had so unwittingly usurped, and whose corporeal substance he had so seriously maltreated.
"And was it you that knocked me down, doctor?" said Mr. Thomson. "Too bad that, to knock me down in my own house."
"Why, my dear sir, I trust I did not. I hope I did not. But really I don't know; perhaps I—you see, I thought thieves were coming in, and I—"
Here a burst of laughter from the presiding officer, which was instantly taken up by every one in the apartment, and in which Thomson himself couldn't help joining, interrupted the doctor's further explanations.
"Well, doctor," said the latter, who was a good-natured sort of person, and who, like every one else, had a kind of esteem for the little medical gentleman, "I must say that when you broke my head, you were only in the way of your trade; but I think the least thing you can do is to mend it for nothing."
"Most gladly, my dear sir," replied the doctor; "for I did the damage,—at least I fear it, however unknowingly,—and am bound to repair it."
"Done; let it be a bargain," said Thomson. "But, doctor, be so good as to give me previous notice when you again desire to take possession of my house. At any rate, don't knock me down when I come to seek a share of it."