'What's all this?' inquired the Captain.
'Oh, a couple of burglars, caught with a valise full of stolen
property.'
'A valise!--what kind of a valise?'
'A black leather valise. That's it, there.'
'Here!--Stop!--Hallo!--Policeman!--Landlord! It's all right. You're all
wrong. That's my valise. It's all a mistake. They got changed at the
depot. This lady and gentleman are innocent. Here's their valise, with
her night-cap in it.'
Great was the laughter, multifarious the comments, and deep the interest
of the crowd in all this dialogue, which they appeared to regard as a
delightful entertainment, got up expressly for their amusement.
'Then you say this 'ere is yourn?' said the policeman, relaxing his hold
on the bridegroom, and confronting the Captain.
'Yes, it's mine.'
'And how did you come by the spoons?'
'Spoons, you jackanapes!' said the Captain. 'Pistols!--dueling-pistols!'
'Do you call these pistols?' said the policeman, holding up one of the
silver spoons marked 'T.B.'
The Captain, astounded, gasped, 'It's the wrong valise again, after
all!'
'Stop! Not so fast!' said the police functionary, now invested with
great dignity by the importance of the affair he found himself engaged
in.
Pages:
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380