"Very good, sir."
"He is the same man who made the disturbance at the Red Cow—and I think he has been charged once or twice as a drunk and disorderly."
"You needn't introduce him so carefully," said Bence, with a snigger. "Mr. Marsden is already well known to the police."
"Yes, Mr. Bence," said one of the policemen, "we know the gent."
"Very well," continued Collins, with the air of a magistrate presiding over a crowded court. "He is leaving the town to-night—forever,—and I shall ask for a constable to see him off. From the mayor down to the humblest citizen, Mallingbridge is tired of him—so he is going to the western states of America. He will be more at home among the desperados of some mining camp than he can be in a peaceful hum-drum town like this." And Mr. Collins turned to Marsden, as though haranguing the prisoner. "Now, sir, will you behave yourself, and let us finish our conversation quietly and decently?"
"Oh, you can finish your chin-music in any tune you like." Marsden growled this out; but the voice was heavy and dejected, altogether lacking in animation. Very obviously the arrival of the police had crushed his spirit.
"So be it," said Collins. "Then I think, officers, that will do. You may safely leave us for the moment. But please wait outside the door, to protect us if necessary."
"Yes," said Bence, "we'll give you the same signal, if you're wanted again."
"All right, Mr. Bence."