Sylvester Sound the Somnambulist/Chapter 22

After dinner, at which they were joined by Mr. Scholefield—the surgeon to whom Sylvester was about to be articled, and who ate nothing but fish, bread, and pastry, and drank nothing but pure cold water—Sylvester, as well as Aunt Eleanor and the reverend gentleman, was so delighted with his conversation, that Tom experienced the utmost difficulty in inducing his young friend to accompany him, as usual, to the hospital. He did, however, eventually succeed, and they started, and heard the lecture for the evening delivered; and, at the conclusion, Tom received a short message from Julia, of which the substance was, that she wished to see him for one moment.

​"What's id the widd dow!" exclaimed Tom. "There's sobethidg bovidg. What does she wadt with be?"

"You'll go in, of course?" said Sylvester.

"Yes, I'll go id. I bust go id!"

"Then shall I walk about here, or go towards home?"

"Oh, just walk about, I shall be but a very few bidutes: I odly wadt to hear what's the batter."

"Very well, then I'll walk up and down here until you return."

Tom then went into the house, and as he entered, Julia was evidently disappointed: she did not at all expect to see him alone, having heard, from one of the students, that Sylvester had been in the theatre with him.

"What's up?" inquired Tom. "Is there adythidg the batter?"

"Oh, dear me, no!" returned Julia, when, as several students were impatient for porter, she added, "I'll speak to you in a moment."

Having supplied the immediate demands of the thirsty, she returned to Tom, and said, "How is your friend?"

"Which?" inquired Tom. "Do you ibagide I've odly wud?"

"I mean your young friend: him whom you call Sylvester."

"Oh! he's well edough."

"He will not be here to-night, I presume?"

"Doe, he cad't stadd dridk: he's dot beed buch used to it."

"Is that the only cause of his not coming?"

"Why, what other cause do you ibagide he cad have?"

"I was fearful that I had been unfortunate enough to offend him."

"Offedd hib? Pooh! dodsedse: you cad't offedd hib!"

"Are you sure that I have not done so?"

"Quite."

"Then I am happy. I thought that I might perhaps have given him some offence, and if I had, the consciousness of having done so, would have been indeed very, very painful to me."

"Bake your bide easy," cried Tom, "about that. I dever knew you to give offedce to ady bad alive, add I'b perfectly sure that you have dot offedded hib."

"Then bring him again with you, that I also may be sure. There is no necessity for him to drink, not the slightest. Will you bring him in with you to-morrow evening?"

"He'll dot be here, I kdow, to-borrow evedidg. But I'll see about it."

"Do, there's a good creature, and then I shall be satisfied."

"Well, but I say, old girl, is this all you wadted be for?"

"I merely wished to be assured upon that one point."

"Oh, that's all right edough. Let's have wud pull at the pewter, add thed I'll be off."

The porter was brought, and Tom had "one pull," and managed to pull it all out of the pot, and when Julia had begged of him not to forget, he bade her adieu for the night, and left.

"Well," said Sylvester, when Tom had rejoined him, "was it any thing of importance?"

​"Oh, she berely wadted to ask be about a youdg fellow whob she fadcied she had offedded."

"How does she look?"

"Buch as usual; just about the sabe."

Tom thought it wise to keep Sylvester unconscious of Julia's anxiety, and he did so; and, in order that the subject might not be dwelt upon then, he reverted to the conversation of Mr. Scholefield, and thus turned the current of Sylvester's thoughts.

That night, Tom decided upon sitting up alone. He had privately decided upon this, feeling certain that if his intention were known to Sylvester, he should never be able to get him to bed; while he thought that it would be highly incorrect to keep him out of it, so languid as he almost invariably appeared to be.

When, therefore, they had had their usual supper in the study, Tom saw Sylvester to his room, shook hands with him, and bade him good night; and then, making all the noise he conveniently could, bounced into his own room, and slammed the door, and locked it, of course with the view of inducing all whom it might concern to believe that he was in reality gone to bed. But it was not so: he remained in the room a short time—say ten minutes—and then, having carefully unlocked the door, crept noiselessly back to his study.

And there he sat; and there he continued to sit with a little dark lantern shut up by his side—sometimes smoking, and sometimes drinking; but constantly thinking, and earnestly wishing, that some one might do him the favour to appear. He was fully prepared, both morally and physically, to receive any guest who might honour him with a visit; he had resolved on doing all in his power to serve him—that is, to serve him out—and it is extremely rational to cherish the belief that, if any one had appeared then, his reception would have been most warm; but the prospect which Tom had with pleasure portrayed, and which he viewed and improved with peculiar delight, began about half-past two to recede. He had, with the utmost fortitude, sat for two hours—proposing and solving an infinite variety of surgical questions, having direct and immediate reference to the dislocated joints and broken bones of his contemplated victim—and, as no one had appeared, he certainly did begin to think that the pleasures of his imagination were not about to be realised.

He was not, however, at all disposed to give the thing up! No: he filled his German pipe again, and ignited his German tinder, in order that the room might not even for an instant be illumined, and again philosophically enveloped himself in clouds. He had, however, scarcely sent forth twenty whiffs, when he fancied that he heard a noise below, and starting up on the instant grasped his stick, and felt that the time was come.

But the sounds—which he believed were those of footsteps—receded, and gradually died away: when, as he imagined that he might have been mistaken, he resumed both his seat and his pipe.

Now it strangely enough happened that, about an hour after this—hat is to say, about half-past three—policeman Ninety-nine did, on ​going his rounds, perceive that the street-door of Mr. Delolme was slightly open.

"What's the odds," said Ninety-nine, confidentially to himself, "that there isn't a burglary here? I shall make something of this; I should like a burglary, and I ought to have one, for I haven't had any luck lately. Let's have a look," he added, going very quietly up to the door; "that'll do—that'll do. I shall nail at least one of 'em. Burglaries always look well on the sheet."

He then glided to the opposite side on his toes—the proximity of a policeman being betrayed by his heels—and having established himself in the shade of a doorway, drew forth his truncheon, and watched. Nothing in nature could surpass the vigilance with which he kept his eye upon that door, nor could the ears of even a cat prick up and expand more instantaneously than his ears pricked up and expanded on hearing the slightest unusual sound. That a burglary had been committed he fervently hoped, and felt that if it should prove to have been accompanied by murder, it would be all the better for him. He would give no alarm; not a bit of it. Had he even known that murder might thus have been prevented, he was too wide awake to spoil such a fine chance by any premature interference.

Having, for nearly half an hour, kept his eyes, ears, mouth, and imagination, on the stretch, he heard some one approaching, and on looking up the street saw the figure of a man walking leisurely down on the opposite side with his hands in his great-coat pockets. Under these circumstances Ninety-nine, of course, took but very little notice of him; but when he saw him enter the house of Dr. Delolme, and heard him, when he had entered, close the door and deliberately bolt it, he felt in an instant prepared to swear that that man was his enemy Tom.

Having deliberated for a moment, and recollecting that the doctor had told him to ring a certain bell in the event of his seeing any one again upon the parapet, he opened his bull's-eye and rang that bell, and the doctor in due time appeared at the window.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

"Come down, sir," replied Ninety-nine, in a confidential tone, "there's a dodge, sir."

"A what?"

"A dodge, sir; you'll find it all out, if you will but come down, sir; you'll soon see who's who, sir, and know what's what."

The doctor closed the window, and having slipped on his pantaloons and dressing-gown, descended, expecting, of course, that the parapet was again the scene of action.

"I am sorry, sir," said Ninety-nine, on being admitted, "I'm indeed very sorry to inform you that your son, sir, is endangering your property very strangely. This door, sir, has been open for more than two hours, sir—wide open. Of course it was my duty to watch it, and I did so: I watched it until your son returned, which was just about a minute before I rang the bell."

"Is it possible!" cried the doctor: "and left the door open! Just ​
Ninety-nine comes in for it.

​come up with me; I'll investigate this—but quietly: don't make the slightest noise."

"All right, sir: a mouse sha'n't hear me."

The doctor then—followed by Ninety-nine—ascended, and on going into Tom's room found, not only that Tom was not there but that he had not been in bed at all.

"Well," exclaimed the doctor, "this is, at all events, conclusive. But where can he be?"

"Up stairs perhaps, sir," suggested Ninety-nine.

"Very likely. But let us go up quietly."

Ninety-nine then took the lead, and as Tom—who was still at his post, and who had heard sounds below which could not be mistaken—had prepared himself to receive any friend who might happen to look in upon him, Ninety-nine no sooner entered the study than he received a blow which felled him in an instant to the ground.

"Who's there?" cried the doctor.

"'Tis I," replied Tom, amazed on hearing the doctor's voice.

"Tom! what, in the name of heaven, do you mean?"

"O-o-o-o!" cried Ninety-nine.

Tom opened his little dark lantern, and having seen Ninety-nine stretched upon the floor, felt that he had made some mistake.

"I ask you again," said the doctor, "what you mean by this abominable conduct?"

"What abobidable codduct?" cried Tom. "I've beed sittidg up here with the view of catchidg that scouddrel whose budkey tricks have so buch addoyed us."

"It is false!" cried the doctor.

"What's false?"

"Every word that you have uttered. You have not, sir, been sitting up here. You have been out, sir!"

"Out! what, out of the house do you bead?"

"Yes, sir!"

"What, do you bead sidce I cabe id frob the lecture?"

"Yes!"

"Doe, I'b blest if I have!"

"How can you deny it, Tom? This policeman here, saw you enter just now."

"Iddeed! What, this fellow? Well, if he did he did, add if he did, he's a datural curiosity! I bust have a look at hib."

Ninety-nine, on being rolled over by Tom, conceived it to be his duty, as a policeman and as a man, to pretend to have been dreadfully injured; but having been in reality more frightened than hurt, Tom soon made him assume a sitting posture on the floor; and, having done so, exclaimed, "Didety-dide! Why, this is Didety-dide! What does he pretedd to kdow about the batter?"

"Policeman," said the doctor, "is this, or is this not the person whom you saw just now enter the house?"

"It is, sir," replied Ninety-nine; "and I'll swear it."

"You will," exclaimed Tom.

​"Yes!" cried Ninety-nine, who was seized with so strong a fit of energy, that he started to his feet on the instant; "I will."

"Why, you wretched, cadaverous, udhappy lookidg adibal, what do you bead? what's your botive id cobidg here, prepared to swear to a falsehood so bodstrous? You're too codtebptible to be revedged upod, or I'd take it out dow: I cad but spurd you, add treat your accusatiod with scord."

"This will not do, Tom," said the doctor, severely. "This will no longer do for me. I'll at once put a stop to it. I'll not be thus annoyed night after night."

"Well, but I have dot addoyed you!" cried Tom; "you've dot beed addoyed by be!"

"I have, sir, and you know it!"

"I kdow," replied Tom, "that I have dot."

"But here is proof of it."

"What proof? the proof idvolved id the evidedce of this codsubbate wretch? The bagistrate who would believe hib od his oath ought to be deprived of his cobbissiod."

"The idea," continued the doctor, "of prowling about in the middle of the night, and leaving the street-door open! I'm ashamed of you—perfectly ashamed of you! I couldn't have supposed that you would be guilty of an act so monstrous."

"It's of doe use," said Tom, "I kdow it's of doe use! but I tell you, father, agaid add agaid, that, sidce twelve o'clock, I've dot stirred frob this roob."

"I'll not believe it," said the doctor; "I will not believe it."

"I should think not," interposed Ninety-nine.

"Siledce, you ugly abortiod!" cried Tom, whom the sneer of Ninety-nine had enraged; "if I have adother word od the subject frob you, I'll walk id!"

"You shall walk out, sir!" said the doctor; "you shall not remain here: I'll not have the house disturbed in this way."

"The disturbadce has dot beed created by be."

"Go to bed, sir, and let me have no more of it: I'll no longer tolerate such practices. Go to bed."

The doctor and Ninety-nine then left the room—Ninety-nine, with great discretion, taking the lead—but he had no sooner reached the top of the stairs, than that discretion forsook him, and, turning to Tom, said, "I'll nail you!" an observation which so excited Tom's ire, that he rushed at him on the instant; but, before he could reach him, Ninety-nine, in his anxiety to get away, slipped, and glided to the bottom—not smoothly, no; but bumping in his progress the bottom of his spine, and causing him not only to call out, "oh!" but to pull a face, of which the prevailing expression would have puzzled Lavater himself.

"Keep back!" cried the doctor, "I command you;" and Tom, who felt that Ninety-nine had had quite enough of it, did not follow him up—or, rather, down; but the doctor descended, and assisted him to rise, and having done so, led him into the drawing-room, and gave him some brandy, and placed in his hand a small piece of that metal which has, ​in this sublunary sphere, more influence than either mind, honour, religion, or love.

In falling, however, Ninety-nine awoke Sylvester, and as he came to the door, in order to ascertain what was the matter, Tom went into his room with the lantern in his hand, and placing himself upon the edge of the bedstead, looked as if all had been lost.

"What is the meaning of this?" inquired Sylvester. "What has occurred?"

"Get idto bed, Syl," said Tom, "add I'll tell you all about it."

Sylvester accordingly got into bed, when Tom, having struck the lantern in the face, commenced—

"Syl," said he, "I'b a victib. But that you kdow. I was always a victib. I was bord to be a victib. I shall becobe id a short tibe wud of those predestidariad swells who believe that a bad's actiods are chalked out by Fate, add that he bust walk Fate's chalks, whether he likes theb or dot. Just look here! Last dight I decided od sittidg up alode, id order to catch that scabp who has created so buch addoyadce. I did'dt tell you a word about it, because I kdew that you'd wadt to sit up with be, add thought that you'd buch better dot. Well, I sat up: sat frob the tibe you wedt to bed, till about half ad hour ago, whed, plaidly hearidg footsteps od the stairs, I prepared to receive, as I fadcied, the fellow by whob the whole of these disturbadces have beed created. Well, presedtly the study door opeded, add id walked a bad, add I gave hib wud which laid hib low, whed, of course to by utter abazebedt, I heard the voice of the goverdor! It's a blessidg the goverdor didd't edter first!"

"Then whom did you strike?"

"Didety-dide the policebad! the fellow who said he could swear to by shirt!"

"Well, but what brought him there?"

"I'll tell you. I dod't thidk he likes be: at all evedts I feel codvidced he doesd't like be buch, add if he does, he likes the goverdor's buddy buch bore; add hedce, id order to get a little of it, he trubped up a tale to the effect that our street-door had beed oped—wide oped for two hours; that he had kept his eye upod it, id order to ascertaid what was goidg od; add that evedtually he saw be edter the house, add thed heard be close the door, add bolt it!"

"Is it possible!"

"Did you ever hear of adythidg so abobidable? Well, with this tale artfully prepared, he radg the dight bell—which I couldd't hear—add whed the wretch had related all that his thick pig's head had allowed hib to codceive, up cabe the goverdor idto by roob, add, of course, whed he foudd that I had dot beed id bed, the tale of the wretch was codfirbed!"

"I see."

"But beidg daturally adxious to kdow where I was, he cabe up to the study; add, as I said before, it's a bercy he didd't cobe first, for if I'd gived hib the blow, which luckily fell to the lot of Didety-dide, I should have beed wretched for life. However, Didety-dide got it, add ​it served hib right: I dod't care a straw about that: all I care for is this, that, as I was dot id bed, as I'd dot beed id bed, add as he foudd be id the study with by clothes od—the goverdor firbly believes Didety-dide, add thus ab I victibized agaid!"

"Well, it certainly did look suspicious."

"I kdow it—I feel it—I see that, udder the circubstadces, the goverdor is perfectly justified id believidg the tale of that biserable fat-headed wretch: it is the very codsciousdess of that which bost galls be!"

"But, of course, you have not been out?"

"Certaidly dot! Frob the tibe you wedt to bed, till the tibe they cabe up, I dever, for a sidgle bobedt, boved frob the study. Besides, is it likely—is it like adythidg likely—that I should be such a codsubbate dodkey as to go out and leave the door oped for ady wud to walk id that pleased? Is the idea of by doidg such a thidg at all ratiodal?"

"Such conduct would certainly have been very indiscreet."

"Iddiscreet! Why, if I thought that it would ever be possible for be to cobbit such ad act of iddiscretiod as that, I should deeb byself fit for a ludatic asylub."

"I cannot imagine how he came to think of such a thing."

"Oh, these fellows will do adythidg for buddy: it's a batter to theb of little ibportadce what."

"Well, it certainly is strange—very strange—that he should have fixed upon this particular morning."

"Exactly! That's where it is! It is that very thidg which gets over be! Had he fixed upod ady other, I should have beed, of course, id bed add asleep. But it was to be, I suppose. I kdow I shall sood becobe a predestidariad. But isd't it edough to bake a bad hit his head off?"

"It is, certainly, very unfortunate."

"By usual luck! Dothidg bore cad be said of it. I always have luck. I cabe idto the world to be lucky. I'll have by dativity cast wud of these days, add see udder what lucky pladet I was bord. But I'll have doe bore of it. The thidg is settled dow, Syl: doe bore watchidg for be: dor will I attebpt after this to discover the cause of our recedt addoyadees. Dot a bit of it! I'll give the thidg up. If a legiod of ibps were to haudt the house dight after dight, Syl, I'd dot bove a peg! The very efforts which I bake to clear byself tedd but to idvolve be bore deeply: like the fly id the web, the bore I try to get out, the bore firbly I'b held. I'll give it up, cobe what bay. I'll pludge idto bed at by usual tibe, add get up at by usual tibe, add dot before. Doe batter what capers bay be cut, or what pradks bay be played: that bischievous devil, whoever he is, bay stick a hot brick upod wud of the chibdey-pots, add dadce upod that, if he likes: the bood bay be abused, add the stars bay be abused, but he sha'd't abuse be; I've had edough of his abusebedt: he dod't get be to rud after hib agaid; I'll borally seal by head to the pillow, although I should dearly like to catch hib! You see it plays vedgeadce with be;—it destroys at wodce all the goverdor's codfidedce, add places be id the positiod of a thoughtless, reckless, characterless scabp! That's the poidt, Syl—that's what I look at! Up ​to this tibe, the goverdor has reposed the bost udlibited codfidedce id by hodour; but dow, of course, he ibagides that I seek to deceive hib, add that, too, by tellidg bead, deliberate falsehoods."

"Well, but when you have explained all to him," suggested Sylvester, "surely that confidence will be restored?"

"I fear dot, Syl: day, I cad hardly expect it, the circubstadtial evidedce is so strodg agaidst be. Bady a bad has beed hadged upod collateral, or circubstadtial, evidedce far less conclusive. However, sobethidg bust be dode. I'll go to bed add thidk about it. Call be whed you rise: I bay dot be awake; add, udless I put id by appearadce at breakfast, the great swell will kdow all about it, if she doesd't kdow all about it dow. Therefore, dod't forget to call be?"

"I'll not."

"Thed I'll be off add get a widk or two, if I cad: I cad't expect to have buch rest—iddeed—

Poor Tom! He shook hands with Sylvester and left him, and turned into bed with a heavy heart; but he soon went to sleep—very soon—and slept soundly, until Sylvester summoned him to breakfast.

The doctor had not explained the affair to Mrs. Dololme. This, Tom perceived the moment he entered the room, and, in consequence, felt comparatively comfortable; but he saw that the doctor was angry with him still, although the expression of that anger was concealed from the rest.

Now, as this was the day on which Sylvester was to leave the doctor's house, and make that of Mr. Scholefield his home—it having been arranged the previous evening, that he should live with him a month before the articles were signed—the talents of Mr. Scholefield, and the prospects of Sylvester, formed the chief topics of conversation during breakfast. With Mr. Scholefield himself, Aunt Eleanor was delighted, and so, indeed, was Sylvester, although that delight was in some degree subdued by a variety of youthful apprehensions; and while even Mrs. Delolme confessed that she thought him an amiable person, the doctor bore testimony not only to his high professional abilities, but to his excellent qualities as a man. All were, therefore, satisfied that Sylvester's prospects were, as far as they could then be viewed, bright; and when the doctor had endeavoured to impress upon Sylvester the propriety of pursuing whatever course of study Mr. Scholefield might suggest, he rose from the table and withdrew.

He had scarcely, however, entered the library, when his servant came to inform him that a policeman had called, and was anxious to see him immediately. The doctor, of course, imagined that this was Ninety-nine, and directed the servant to show him in at once; but when he found that it was not, he was filled with apprehension: it struck him in an instant that something had happened to Ninety-nine, and that probably his fall had proved fatal.

"I beg pardon," said the policeman, with appropriate respect; "your name, sir, is Dr. Delolme?"

"It is," replied the doctor.

​"You have a son, I believe, sir?"

"I have."

"His presence is required at the police-office, Bow-street, immediately."

"For what purpose?"

"To give evidence in a case of robbery and assault."

"A case of robbery and assault."

"Yes, sir. He is, I believe, the only witness."

"Well, but when did it occur?"

"About three o'clock this morning, I believe, sir: I don't know the whole of the particulars, but I think that it happened about that time."

The doctor rang the bell, and desired the servant to send Tom in. As far as his fears for Ninety-nine were concerned, he felt greatly relieved; but every doubt having reference to the truth of Ninety-nine's accusation against Tom vanished.

"Now, sir," said the doctor, when Tom appeared, "you are wanted at Bow-street police-office, immediately."

"What for?" inquired Tom.

"You witnessed a robbery this morning, did you not?"

"The odly robbery I witdessed, was a robbery of reputatiod, add that reputatiod was by owd."

"But you witnessed a robbery in the street, about three o'clock this morning?"

"Who says so?" demanded Tom, fiercely. "Do you?" he added, turning to the policeman.

"I know nothing of it myself," replied the man.

"Do you kdow, Didety-dide? Has this, too, beed got up by hib?"

"I know nothing of the particulars," returned the policeman.

"All I know about the matter is this, that I was sent here to request your immediate attendance at the office."

"Oh, I'll go!" said Tom. "I see how it is. Add," he added, addressing the doctor, "I hope you'll go with be."

"I will go with you, sir."

"Do so: I wish you to do so; add if I fide that that wretch has beed trubpidg up adother charge agaidst be, I'll have the dubber off his coat, add the coat off his back. I'll write to the cobbissioders at wudce: I'll dot be thus addoyed by a fellow like that."

The doctor again rang the bell, and having ascertained that the carriage was at the door, he directed the policeman to get on the box and they started.

During their progress to Bow-street not a word was uttered by either the doctor or Tom: the doctor was anxious for silence to be preserved, and Tom felt no inclination to break it; nor, when they had arrived, did a syllable pass between them. The carriage door was opened, and they alighted in silence; and on passing through a passage heard a fellow bawling "Mr. Delolme!" The policeman then led the way into the office, and found that the case was then on—that the prosecutor had already given his evidence, and that he had then just gone out of the office to look for his witness—the magistrate having consented to wait a few minutes, in order that he might be produced. An intimation was ​
Tom giving his evidence.

​therefore given that the witness was in attendance, and Tom was ushered into the box and sworn.

During the performance of this solemn ceremony, the magistrate was relating, across the table, an anecdote, which caused the clerk, as a natural matter of duty, to roar; and when Tom had kissed the book, he looked well at the prisoner, who was dressed in the most fashionable style, but whom he didn't know from Adam.

"Well," said the clerk, addressing Tom, when he felt that he had laughed sufficiently long to satisfy the magistrate, "what's your name?"

"Thobas Delolbe."

"What d'you say?"

"Thobas Delolbe."

"Speak up, sir!"

"Thobas Delolbe!" repeated Tom, in a voice of thunder.

"I'm not deaf," said the clerk.

"Oh!" replied Tom, "I thought you were."

"Thobas Delolbe," said the clerk, as he proceeded to write it down.

"Thobas: how do you spell Thobas—with a b?"

"With a b?" said Tom. "You cad spell it with a b if you like: I always spell it with an eb!"

"Oh, an eb!" said the clerk, as he winked at the magistrate. "Very good: and do you spell Delolbe with an eb too?"

"Why, of course."

"I only ask for information.—Thobas Delolbe. Well, Mr. Thobas Delolbe, what are you?"

"A studedt of bed'cide!"

"A student of what, sir?" demanded the clerk, who could not resist laughing; nor could the magistrate—nor, indeed, could the doctor, although he felt vexed at the time—"A student of what?"

"Of bed'cide!" replied Tom indignantly, and thereby set the whole court in a roar.

"Of bed'cide!" said the clerk, when the laughter had in some degree subsided. "I see! A student of bed'cide—very good. How do you spell bed'cide?"

"How do I spell bed'cide?" cried Tom, who felt highly indignant; while the court was convulsed with laughter, in which even the prisoner joined: "what do you bead?"

"I mean," said the clerk, having recovered the power to speak, "I mean to ask how you spell bed'cide?"

"Add do you bead to say that you dod't kdow how to spell it? If so I should like to dose you with it till you do. I should feel great pleasure id thus curidg you of the igdoradce with which you are afflicted."

"Well," said the clerk, who didn't much like this, "but is bed'cide spelt with a w or a b?"

"A w or a b, you fool!" said Tom, looking contemptuously at the clerk, who really began to feel himself wounded.

"Like Thobas, it's spelt with an eb, no doubt!" observed the magistrate; and this—being the magistrate's joke—was on the instant hailed with ​the loudest burst of laughter ever even heard within those walls. The clerk, the policeman, the turnkeys, the crier, and the fellow who administered the solemn oaths, roared; while the prisoner—who was a student of human nature—shook his sides on speculation, conceiving, of course, that the magistrate's gratitude would prompt him to repudiate the evidence.

"Well, I suppose it is spelt with an eb," said the clerk, when he and the other impartial judges of a joke had become exhausted. "You are a student of bed'cide, you say?"

"Is this the court of Bobus?" inquired Tom, looking round with an expression of imperturbable gravity, which threw the whole court again into convulsions. "Cobus presides here if Bobus does dot! Ab I," he added, addressing the magistrate, as soon as his voice could be heard, "ab I id a place sacred to justice?—a place id which solebdity is supposed to reigd, add of which digdity is supposed to be wud of the chief characteristics?—a place id which obediedce to the law is taught, add respect for those who adbidister the law idspired? I ab—I presube that I ab—add yet I who have taked a soleb oath to ibpart with truth that which I kdow, ab bet with dothidg but buffoodery, ragged jokes, add ailly laughter. That bad's life," he added, pointing to the prisoner, "his very life bay, for ought I kdow, be id peril, add yet you teach hib, add all who are here, to view the adbidistratiod of justice as a jest."

The officials again felt it to be their duty to laugh, but the magistrate clearly didn't like it at all, and more especially as Tom's rebuke was hailed in the body of the court with applause. He, therefore, assuming an aspect of gravity, said, "Let us proceed with the business of the court."

"I thidk it high tibe that we should," said Tom, and another laugh burst from the officials.

"Silence!" shouted the magistrate, sternly; and "Silence!" was indignantly reiterated by the crier, who had been making more noise than any other man in court.

"Now, sir," said the magistrate, determined to be severe upon Tom, who, however, was not at all afraid of him, "what do you know about this?"

"About what?"

"About what! Why this robbery."

"Dothidg."

"Nothing! You are a witness in this case, are you not?"

"I ab placed id the positiod of a witdess."

"Then what do you mean by saying that you know nothing of it?"

"I bead, by sayidg that I kdow dothidg of it, that I kdow dothidg of it."

"Then what did you come here for?"

"That's the very poidt which I ab adxious to ascertaid!"

"What's the meaning of all this? Do you know sir, that I have the power to commit you?"

"Cobbit be!" cried Tom.

"Ay, sir; commit you."

"You bay have the power, but you dare dot, I apprehedd, exercise that power without sufficient cause."

​"I shall be justified, sir, by your refusal to give evidence."

"I have do evidedce to give! I have sword to speak the truth, the whole truth, add dothidg but the truth: I respect that oath, add whed I solebly declare that I kdow dothidg whatever of this robbery, the truth, the whole truth, add dothidg but the truth, is idvolved id that solebd declaratiod."

"Have a care, sir! have a care!" exclaimed the magistrate. "How long have you known the prisoner?"

"How lodg have I kdowd hib?"

"Yes, sir: that's the question. How long have you known him?"

"Well," said Tom, deliberately taking out his watch, "sobewhere about twedty bidutes."

"Come, come, sir; I'm not to be trifled with: these ingenious evasions will not do here."

"What idgedious evasiods? You asked be how lodg the prisoder had beed kdowd to be: I told you about twedty bidutes. Is there ady evasiad id that?"

"Are you not one of his associates?"

"Wud of his associates?"

"Aye! one of his associates. Come now, answer that question."

"It is albost too codtebptible to be adswered; but I'll adswer it by statidg, with all the iddigdatiod at by cobbadd, that I ab dot."

"Oh, none of your indignation, sir; it will not do here. Answer my questions plainly. You have never been in any way connected with him?"

"Dever."

"You don't know him?"

"I do dot."

"You never saw him before in your life, I dare say?"

"I dever did."

"No: I don't suppose you ever did."

At this stage of the proceedings the doctor would have interfered, with the view of expostulating with the magistrate, but that he felt that Tom would be a match for him yet.

"Is he known to the police?" resumed the magistrate, with infinite significance; and, doubtless, had Ninety-nine been there, he would have given Tom a character; but he was not, and the rest knew nothing at all of him.

"How do you get your living?" inquired his worship.

"What do you bead by by lividg?" said Tom.

"How do you support yourself?"

"Doe how. I dod't support byself at all."

"Who supports you?"

"By father."

"Oh, then you have a father, have you?"

"I have."

"Ah: and what is he?"

"A doctor of bed'cide?"

"Oh: he's a doctor, too. A respectable man, I dare say?"

​"He is a bad who occupies, add who deserves to occupy, a far higher social positiod thad ady other bad id this court. He," added Tom, with a sarcastic smile, "He is a gedtlebad."

"Oh! no doubt. Is he here?"

"I believe so: he cabe id the carriage with be."

"Oh! the carriage! Ah! what carriage?"

"What carriage?—why, our carriage! Is it at all probable that we should cobe to see so courteous add so distidguished a persod in a jarvey?"

The clerk here privately expressed his conviction that, notwithstanding all that Tom had said, he and the prisoner belonged to the same gang; and when the magistrate had winked at the clerk with great significance, he suddenly said—

"Where's the prosecutor? You are a very clever fellow," turning to Tom, "but I think that we shall know each other better, by-and-bye."

The prosecutor, who had imagined that this was altogether another case, was then directed by one of the officers to step forward, and he did so.

"I think I understood you," said the magistrate, "that this robbery was committed about three o'clock?"

"About three."

"Very well. Now, how far was your witness from the prisoner at the time?"

"A very short distance! He was, in fact, walking just behind him."

"I thought so!"

"What!" exclaimed Tom, addressing the prosecutor fiercely, "do you bead to to say that I was walkidg behide hib?"

"You!" cried the prosecutor, in a state of amazement—" No!—You are not my witness!"

"What's the meaning of it all?" said the magistrate. "I don't understand it. If," he added, addressing Tom—"If you are not the prosecutor's witness, why did you come here?"

"I cabe here because a policebad called to idforb be that by presedce was required ibbediately. That's all I kddw about the batter."

"Well, but why did you get into the witness-box?"

"Because I was ushered in the bobedt I edtered the court."

"I am sorry that this mistake should have occurred," said the prosecutor. "But certainly that gentleman is not the witness whom I expected."

"It's well for that gentleman," said the magistrate, "that he is not. As it is, I have a great mind to detain him until he brings forward some respectable person—"

"You will, sir, detain him at your peril!" said the doctor, coming forward, with an air of calm dignity, and speaking in tones which commanded attention. "I am his father—my name is Delolme; and if you wish to have evidence of my respectability, I can refer you not only to some of the first families in the kingdom, but to many of your own immediate friends."

"I regret," said the magistrate, whose countenance fell the moment ​the doctor mentioned his "immediate friends"—"I regret exceedingly that so great a mistake should have occurred; but we really have so many persons here who pretend to be that which they are not, that we are compelled to look upon almost all with suspicion."

"It may be so," calmly retorted the doctor; "still the course which you have pursued in this case has been, in my judgment, highly incorrect."

"Well," said Tom, "I suppose I bay go?"

"You may," replied the magistrate.

"Very good. But before I retire, allow be, as a batter of gratitude, to ackdowledge the courtesy with which I have beed received id this Suprebe Court of Jollity add Justice."

The magistrate was silent, and Tom withdrew; and as he did so, he was greeted with a buzz of applause, which fell harshly, of course, upon the ear of his worship, who, determined on taking his revenge out of some one, indignantly commanded the prosecutor to explain.

"I am really very sorry," said the prosecutor, who was evidently a highly respectable man, "but I can give no other explanation than this, that that gentleman was sent for by mistake, and placed in the witness-box, during my absence from the court."

"But how came he to be sent for?"

"I sent for him, because the person who witnessed the robbery gave me his address."

"Well, is that person here?"

"I am sorry to say that he is not."

"Very well; then the prisoner must be discharged."

"You will, I hope, remand him; and thereby give me some time to produce this witness?"

"I have no evidence before me to justify a remand."

"You have my evidence, and you have also the evidence of the policeman."

"Don't dictate to me, sir! I say that I have no evidence before me to justify me in remanding the prisoner, and that, therefore, he must be discharged."

"Well, but am to be deprived of my property, and assaulted by a man, whose character is known to be infamous, without having—"

"It's your own fault: you have no one to blame but yourself. You should have had your witness here!"

"Well! if this is the way in which justice is administered, heaven protect me from its administration!"

"Understand that I am invested with authority here, and that I will not suffer you, or any other man, to bring that authority into contempt."

"I hold it to be quite unnecessary for me to do so. You bring it sufficiently into contempt yourself."

"Leave the office, sir! If you do not know how to conduct yourself properly, leave the office!"

"I will do so; and I hope that while you preside over it, I shall never have occasion to enter it again."

The prisoner, who was a well known member of a numerous and ​highly respectable-looking body, ycleped in those days "the swell mob," was then discharged; and as the prosecutor was leaving the office in disgust, Tom, with a view to the vindication of his own honour, arrested his progress.

"Will you do be the favour," said he, "to explaid to be how this stradge bistake occurred? By object id requestidg this favour is to satisfy by goverdor that I ab dot the bad."

"In any case you are entitled to an explanation," said the prosecutor, "after having been put to so much trouble and annoyance."

"Oh, I dod't care a straw about that. I'b odly adxious to rebove whatever doubt bay exist id by goverdor's bide, about by beidg out at that tibe id the bordidg."

"Well, then, about three o'clock, as I was returning from a party, I was accosted by the fellow whom this Midas has discharged, and, as I conceived him to be a respectable man, we walked on together for some considerable distance, when suddenly he gave me a blow which nearly stunned me, drew my watch from my pocket in an instant, and made off. At this time a young gentleman was walking behind us, and witnessed the whole transaction. I did not, however, stop to speak to him then, but pursued the scoundrel, who was eventually secured, and, while the policeman held him, I returned to this gentleman, and begged of him to accompany me to the station. This, he said, would put him to great inconvenience, but he assured me that he should be most happy to appear and give evidence at the police-office, when called upon to do so. Being satisfied with this assurance, and knowing that my evidence alone, without even that of the policeman, would be sufficient to cause the prisoner to be detained, I did not press him to accompany me then, but took his address, which he readily gave me, and it certainly is my impression that he told me that he was the son, or the nephew, of Dr. Delolme. I was, of course, somewhat excited at the time, and being so, I may have misunderstood him: indeed, I now feel that I must have misunderstood him; but certain am I that, in some way, either directly or indirectly, he mentioned the name of Dr. Delolme. He might have said that he was known to Dr. Delolme, or that he was in some way connected with Dr. Delolme, but he certainly mentioned the name of Dr. Delolme, for the moment I heard that name mentioned, I was satisfied."

"Might he not," said the doctor, "have been, as the magistrate suggested to us, one of the associates of this man?"

"I do not believe that he was. I cannot believe it. He was a young man, upon whom I fancied, at the time, I might with safety place the utmost reliance. I may have been deceived; it is possible: but certainly my impression is that he knew no more of the fellow than I did. And now," added the prosecutor, turning to Tom, "having explained how it happened that I sent for you this morning, I hope that you will accept my apology for—"

"Dodsedce!" cried Tom; "dod't bedtiod it! I'b odly sorry that the fellow was dot pudished. You have dot recovered your watch, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes! I found it this morning in the area of one of the houses: ​but, as a watch, it's valueless. This is it! broken all to pieces you see: I saw him throw it away just before he was secured."

"Well," said Tom, "although the gold is odly worth its weight, I'b very glad that he hasd't got it. But did you ever see such a bagistrate?"

"He's a disgrace to the bench," replied the prosecutor, indignantly; "I have heard of him frequently, but with his conduct this morning I am perfectly disgusted. That fellow is as well known to him as any pickpocket in London, and yet, because his dignity was wounded by the calm and correct observations of the doctor, he must let him loose to prey upon society again, although he had ample evidence upon which to commit him. However, the affair is now at an end, and I have but to repeat my expressions of regret, that I should have given you both so much trouble."

He then left the office with the doctor and Tom, and having seen them into the carriage, was about to take his leave, when a fellow came up to the door, and inquired if they would like to have the proceedings reported at length.

"You are a reporter, I presume?" said the doctor.

"I am," replied the man.

"With which of the newspapers are you connected?"

"Oh, several! But I report specially for the Times, Standard, Herald, and Globe."

"Well," said the doctor, who was anxious, of course, that Tom should not be publicly ridiculed; "I see no necessity for the publication of that nonsense! it had nothing whatever to do with the case."

"Then you would like to have all that suppressed?"

"Why, I cannot conceive any sufficient reason for its insertion."

"I have taken it in full, and the whole of it will be inserted! unless, indeed, you wish to have that, or any other particular portion, suppressed."

"Well, I certainly should like that portion to be left out!"

"Very well, sir; then not a single word of it shall appear. You are, of course, aware that we are paid by the line? and that, therefore, whatever we suppress is a dead loss to us, unless, indeed, the sum we should receive for its insertion be paid to us for its suppression."

"I understand," said the doctor; "and it is but correct that you should be paid the sum you would have for its insertion, by those who wish to have it suppressed. What would be the sum in this case?"

"I think it would make about sixty lines, and I manifold seven—that is to say, I send the report to seven papers, each of which pays me three-halfpence a line; but a couple of sovereigns will be sufficient: say a couple of sovereigns."

"You must allow me to settle this," said the prosecutor; "I have given you trouble enough: you shall not through me be put to any expense."

"I beg pardon," said the doctor, "your loss has been greater than mine. But what security have I," he added, turning to the reporter, "that that which you promise to suppress, will not appear?"

"I am well known here, sir, and I may say, with pride, that my reputation is without a single stain. I shall be happy to refer you to the ​magistrate. He has known me for years. You will, probably, before you leave, do me the favour to apply to him, in order—"

"No," said the doctor, smiling, "that I'm sure I'll not do; but here is my card, and if nothing should appear, in either the evening or the morning papers, I shall be happy to give you a couple of sovereigns."

"Oh! if my honour is doubted, there's an end of the matter! It is not of the slightest importance to me, whether I receive the money of you, or the proprietors of the papers, to which I send the report. I am always, of course, anxious to oblige; but it is to me, as you must perceive, a matter of no moment whatever."

"Now do let me settle this affair?" said the prosecutor.

"No," returned the doctor, "that, indeed, I will not. You promise," he added, addressing the reporter, "that if I give you two sovereigns, not a syllable, having reference to my son, shall appear?"

"Let it all appear," cried Tom; "I dod't care a buttod about it!"

"That," resumed the doctor, heedless of Tom's observation, "that is, of course, understood."

"Of course."

The doctor drew out his purse—gave two sovereigns to the reporter—shook hands with the prosecutor, and gave the word, "home."

"Why, did you give hib that buddy?" cried Tom. "Why didd't you give it to be?"

"I gave it to him," replied the doctor, "because I had no desire to see you ridiculed in the public papers."

"Ridiculed! Well, that's rich! How could I be ridiculed? The bagistrate was the swell, I apprehedd, to be ridiculed. It stikes be, that I bade a hit, whed I asked hib if I was id the court of Bobus!"

"Bobus!" cried the doctor. "Yes, you did make a hit! Do you know what produced all that laughter?"

"Of course. The codsubbate igdoradce of the clerk."

"No, Tom: that laughter was produced by your Bobuses and Cobuses."

"What do you bead by Bobuses add Cobuses? I didd't say Bobus! I said Bobus! Id the produdciatiod Bobus add Bobus, the differedce is ibbedse!"

"I cannot perceive any difference at all."

"What! dot betweed Bobus add Bobus?"

"Bobus is Bobus, and nothing but Bobus."

"Well, but I didd't say Bobus! Bobus is a beastly produdciatiod of Bobus!"

"I wish that I could induce you to think so."

"Well, but do you bead to say that I prodoudce Bobus, Bobus?"

"I do."

"Well, I bust look idto this. I begid to suspect that there bust be sobethidg id it. I dod't, of course, wadt to be bade a laughidg-stock of!"

"But a laughing-stock you ever will be, Tom, until your absurd pronunciation of the m's and the n's be corrected."

Tom became thoughtful; and, as they were then near home, the subject was, for the time being, dropped.