“Moved? Who told you to move?”
“The landlord, dear.”
“Don’t you begin ‘dearing’ of me,” he retorted threateningly. “Why wasn’t I asked?”
“There was no opportunity, James.”
“Bah!” he said, in the manner of one who can find no other repartee. He turned to the men. “What ’ave you three come all the way down ere’ for? On the make, I s’pose?”
“We are not on the make,” said the leader precisely. “Recollecting what you was put away for, we have come down ’ere to offer you, as something in the nature of a hero, a ’earty welcome on your return to what we may venture to term your ’earth and ’ome.” James relaxed the sternness of his demeanour, and took another sip from his glass, this time without making a wry face. “We’re a-going to make a fuss of you, old man.”
“Don’t go overdoing it,” he said grudgingly.
They reached Hoxton at about noon, not because the way was long, but because the Committee, possessing funds, desired to do the thing well. A neighbour had taken charge of the arrangements for dinner, and the three men, arrived at the door in Hammerton Street, mentioned gracefully that the reunited pair would in all probability like to be left alone for a few hours, and withdrew; first, however, warning James that he would be expected at the Green Man that evening at eight o’clock precisely, at which hour a few select friends would be present to wish him success in his future career.
“Whad ye mean by my future career?” he demanded. “What are you three a-getting at now?”
“It’s all right, old chap,” they answered soothingly. “Only a form of speech, you know.”