"But why should policemen make you proud?" asked his puzzled listener.
Mr. Burge looked puzzled in his turn. "Why, hasn't Brother Clark told you about me?" he inquired.
Mr. Higgs shook his head. "He sort of—suggested that—that you had been a little bit wild before you came to us," he murmured apologetically.
"A—little—bit—wild?" repeated Brother Burge, in horrified accents. "ME? a little bit wild?"
"No doubt he exaggerated a little," said the jeweller hurriedly. "Being such a good man himself, no doubt things would seem wild to him that wouldn't to us—to me, I mean."
"A little bit wild," said his visitor again. "Sam Burge, the Converted Burglar, a little bit wild. Well, well!"
"Converted what?" shouted the jeweller, half-rising from his chair.
"Burglar," said the other shortly. "Why, I should think I know more about the inside o' gaols than anybody in England; I've pretty near killed three policemen, besides breaking a gent's leg and throwing a footman out of window, and then Brother Clark goes and says I've been a little bit wild. I wonder what he would 'ave?"
"But you—you've quite reformed now?" said the jeweller, resuming his seat and making a great effort to hide his consternation.
"I 'ope so," said Mr. Burge, with alarming humility; "but it's an uncertain world, and far be it from me to boast. That's why I've come here."