By what, or by whom, nobody knows, for the clerk and jailor coughed very loud, just at the right moment; and the former dropped a heavy book upon the floor, thus preventing the word from being heard⁠—accidentally, of course.

With many interruptions, and repeated insults, Mr. Brownlow contrived to state his case; observing that, in the surprise of the moment, he had run after the boy because he saw him running away; and expressing his hope that, if the magistrate should believe him, although not actually the thief, to be connected with the thieves, he would deal as leniently with him as justice would allow.

“He has been hurt already,” said the old gentleman in conclusion. “And I fear,” he added, with great energy, looking towards the bar, “I really fear that he is ill.”

“Oh! yes, I dare say!” said Mr. Fang, with a sneer. “Come, none of your tricks here, you young vagabond; they won’t do. What’s your name?”