Page:Herbert Jenkins - Bindle.djvu/288

 (my name's Bindle—Joseph Bindle) is sort o' particular."

"Then you refuse to confess?" Lady Knob-Kerrick glared at Bindle through her lorgnettes.

"I ain't got nothin' to confess, mum; leastways nothin' I'd like to say 'fore a lady. Look 'ere, Dicky-Bird, if you pinch my arm I'll break your bloomin' shins." This last remark was addressed to Wilton, whom Bindle examined with insulting deliberation. "Must cost a bit to keep yer in clean dickies, ole son," he remarked. Wilton writhed. Bindle suddenly caught sight of Miss Strint slipping into the room, looking very ill and obviously in a state bordering on hysteria.

"'Ello, miss, you do look bad. I hope you ain't 'urt." There was solicitude in Bindle's voice.

"I am very upset and"

"Strint!" admonished Lady Knob-Kerrick, "please be silent. How dare you converse with this man?"

"Now look 'ere, mum., I ain't said much so far, but you're goin' to get into a bit of a mess if yer ain't careful. If you'll just call orf Dicky-Bird and Calves, I'll show yer wot an' 'oo I am. I'm a special constable, I am, and you done a fine thing to-night. P'r'aps yer know the law, p'r'aps yer don't. But this is a case for 'eavy damages. Now, Dicky-Bird, leggo!"

With a dexterous movement Bindle wrenched