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‘We went back into the house, and the two friends began to cut up rough, and their looks didn’t please me at all, I assure you. “Let the man go. What are you going to do with him?” “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do with him. I’m going to take him to London to- night, as sure as I’m alive. I’m not alone here, whatever you may think. You mind your own business, and keep yourselves to yourselves. It’ll be better for you, for I know you both very well.” I’D never seen or heard of ’em in all my life, but my bouncing cowed ’em a bit, and they kept off, while Thompson was making ready to go. I thought to myself, however, that they might be coming after me on the dark road, to rescue Thompson; so I said to the landlady, “What men have you got in the house, Missis?” “We haven’t got no men here,” she says, sulkily. “You have got an ostler, I suppose?” “Yes, we’ve got an ostler.” “Let me see him.” Presently he came, and a shaggy-headed young fellow he was. “Now attend to me, young man,” says I; “I’m a Detective Officer from London. This man’s name is Thompson. I have taken him into custody for felony. I am going to take him to the railroad station. I call upon you in the Queen’s name to assist me; and mind you, my friend, you’ll get yourself into more trouble than you know of, if you don’t!’ You never saw a person open his eyes so wide. “Now, Thompson, come along!” says I. But when I took out the handcuffs, Thompson cries, “No! None of that! I won’t stand THEM! I’ll go along with you quiet, but I won’t bear none of that!” “Tally-ho Thompson,” I said, “I’m willing to behave as a man to you, if you are willing to behave as a man to me. Give me your word that you’ll come peaceably along, and I don’t want to handcuff you.” “I will,” says Thompson, “but I’ll have a glass of brandy first.” “I don’t care if I’ve another,” said I. “We’ll have two more, Missis,” said the friends, “and confound you, Constable, you’ll give your man a drop, won’t you?” I was agreeable to that, so we had it all round, and then my man and I took Tally-ho Thompson safe to the railroad, and I carried him to London that night. He was afterwards acquitted, on account of a defect in the evidence; and I understand he always praises me up to the skies, and says I’m one of the best of men.’

This story coming to a termination amidst general applause, Inspector Wield, after a little grave smoking, fixes his eye on his host, and thus delivers himself:

‘It wasn’t a bad plant that of mine, on Fikey, the man accused of forging the Sou’-Western Railway debentures – it was only t’other day – because the reason why? I’ll tell you.

‘I had information that Fikey and his brother kept a factory over yonder there,’ – indicating any region on the Surrey side of the river – ‘where he bought second-hand carriages; so after I’d tried in vain to get hold of him by other means, I wrote him a letter in an assumed name, saying that I’d got a horse and shay to dispose of, and would drive down next day that he might view the lot, and make an offer – very reasonable it was, I said – a reg’lar bargain. Straw and me then went off to a friend of mine that’s in the livery and job business, and hired a turn-out for the day, a precious smart turn-out it was – quite a slap-up thing! Down we drove, accordingly, with a friend (who’s not in the Force himself); and leaving my friend in the shay near a public-house, to take care of the horse, we went to the factory, which was some little way off. In the factory, there was a number of strong fellows at work, and after reckoning ’em up, it was clear to me that it wouldn’t do to try it on there. They were too many for us. We must get our man out of doors. “Mr. Fikey at home?” “No, he ain’t.” “Expected home soon?” “Why, no, not soon.” “Ah! Is his brother here?” “I’M his brother.” “Oh! well, this is an ill-conwenience, this is. I wrote him a letter yesterday, saying I’d got a little turn-out to dispose of, and I’ve took the trouble to bring the turn-out down a’ purpose, and now he ain’t in the way.” “No, he ain’t in the way. You couldn’t make it convenient to call again, could you?” “Why, no, I couldn’t. I want to sell; that’s the fact; and I can’t put it off. Could you find him anywheres?” At first he said No, he couldn’t, and then he wasn’t sure about it, and then he’d go and try. So at last he went up-stairs, where there was a sort of loft, and presently down comes my man himself in his shirt-sleeves.