“I beg your pardon,” he cried; “but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!”
“Upon my word,” rejoined Wood, “you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes.”
“To be sure! Nothing entertains me so much. People always rejoice at the misfortunes of others—never at their own! The droll dogs! how they must have enjoyed it!—ha! ha!”
“I dare say they did. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you. And, though it's a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever.”
“Quite natural! Never forgive an injury!—I never do!—ha! ha!”
“Really, Mr. Jackson, I could almost fancy we had met before. Your laugh reminds me of—of——”
“Whose, Sir?” demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave.
“You'll not be offended, I hope,” returned Wood, drily, “if I say that your voice, your manner, and, above all, your very extraordinary way of laughing, put me strangely in mind of one of the 'droll dogs,' (as you term them,) who helped to perpetrate the outrage I've just described.”
“Whom do you mean?” demanded Jackson.
“I allude to an individual, who has since acquired an infamous notoriety as a thief-taker; but who, in those days, was himself the associate of thieves.”