'Then you say this 'ere is yourn?' said the policeman, relaxing his hold on the bridegroom, and confronting the Captain.
'Yes, it's mine.'
'And how did you come by the spoons?'
'Spoons, you jackanapes!' said the Captain. 'Pistols!—dueling-pistols!'
'Do you call these pistols?' said the policeman, holding up one of the silver spoons marked 'T.B.'
The Captain, astounded, gasped, 'It's the wrong valise again, after all!'
'Stop! Not so fast!' said the police functionary, now invested with great dignity by the importance of the affair he found himself engaged in. 'If so be as how you've got this 'ere lady's valise, she's all right, and can go. But, in that case, this is yourn, and it comes on you to account for them 'are stole spoons. Have to take you in charge, all four of ye.'
'Why, you impudent scoundrel!' roared [pg 240] the Captain; 'I'll see you in ——. I wish I had my pistols here; I'd teach you how to insult gentlemen!'—shaking his fist.
The dispute waxed fast and furious. The outsiders began to take part in it, and there is no telling how it would have ended, had not an explosion, followed by a heavy fall and a scream of pain, been heard in an adjoining room.
The crowd rushed to the scene of the new attraction.