But, I warn
you, it isn't a fair match. Sally, shut the door and go about your
business.'
'Shall I fetch a p'liceman, sir?' shrilled the servant.
Her master, sufficiently restored to his senses to perceive that he had not
the least chance in a pugilistic encounter with Mr. Lott, drew back and
seemed to hesitate.
'Answer the girl,' said Mr. Lott, as he picked up his whip and examined its
condition. 'Shall we have a policeman in?'
'Shut the door!' Charles shouted fiercely.
The men gazed at each other. Daffy was pale and quivering; his hair in
disorder, his waistcoat torn open, collar and necktie twisted into rags, he
made a pitiful figure. The timber-merchant was slightly heated, but his
countenance wore an expression of calm contentment.
'For the present,' remarked Mr. Lott, as he took up his hat and stick, 'I
think our business is at an end. It isn't often that a fellow of your sort
gets his deserts, and I'm rather sorry we didn't have the policeman in; a
report of the case might do good. I bid you good day, young man. If I were
you I'd sit quiet for an hour or two, and just reflect--you've a _lot_ to
think about.'
So, with a pleasant smile, the visitor took his leave.
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