Page:Marriott Watson--Galloping Dick.djvu/107

 was the landlord, wringing his hands and crying out that ever this shame was come upon his house.

There was never a wickeder sinner than Old Irons inside Christendom, or outside for that matter, and I’d warrant his white hairs against the best of Bow Street wits. He stood astaring, and then began to cackle in a friendly, drunken way. But I waited for no more, and flinging off the paws from my shoulder, whipped out my sword, and went right through ’em. The poor cullies scattered like a crowd of sparrows, and I was forth of the door and away, with Old Irons shouting foul oaths behind, and a pack of the catchpoles on my heels. I slapped through the streets at a rare pace, for I am swift on my pegs, but the traps were no cripples neither, and kept close on my tail; and presently it came across me that if I could not make for my proper quarters, I was like this time to run myself out. And on the top of this, being now got into the rear parts of Golden Square, I found myself all on a sudden rattling up a blind alley, with one of the dogs near upon me, and nothing but a hedge of walls