He looked all round the room, but nobody offered—­except other men’s watches, wot wouldn’t lend ’em.

“Come, come,” he ses; “ain’t none of you got any trust in me?  It’ll be as safe as if it was in your pocket.  I want to prove to you that this man is a thief.”

He asked ’em agin, and at last John Biggs took out ’is silver watch and offered it to ’im on the understanding that ’e was on no account to fire it into Bob Pretty’s pocket.

“Not likely,” ses the conjurer.  “Now, everybody take a good look at this watch, so as to make sure there’s no deceiving.”

He ’anded it round, and arter everybody ’ad taken a look at it ’e took it up to the table and laid it down.

“Let me ’ave a look at it,” ses Bob Pretty, going up to the table.  “I’m not going to ’ave my good name took away for nothing if I can ’elp it.”

He took it up and looked at it, and arter ’olding it to ’is ear put it down agin.

“Is that the flat-iron it’s going to be smashed with?” he ses.

“It is,” ses the conjurer, looking at ’im nasty like; “p’r’aps you’d like to examine it.”

Bob Pretty took it and looked at it.  “Yes, mates,” he ses, “it’s a ordinary flat-iron.  You couldn’t ’ave anything better for smashing a watch with.”

He ’eld it up in the air and, afore anybody could move, brought it down bang on the face o’ the watch.  The conjurer sprang at ’im and caught at ‘is arm, but it was too late, and in a terrible state o’ mind ’e turned round to John Biggs.

[Illustration:  “Afore anybody could move, he brought it down bang on the face o’ the watch.”]

“He’s smashed your watch,” he ses; “he’s smashed your watch.”

“Well,” ses John Biggs, “it ’ad got to be smashed, ’adn’t it?”

“Yes, but not by ’im,” ses the conjurer, dancing about.  “I wash my ’ands of it now.”

“Look ’ere,” ses John Biggs; “don’t you talk to me about washing your ’ands of it.  You finish your trick and give me my watch back agin same as it was afore.”

“Not now he’s been interfering with it,” ses the conjurer.  “He’d better do the trick now as he’s so clever.”

“I’d sooner ’ave you do it,” ses John Biggs.  “Wot did you let ’im interfere for?”

“’Ow was I to know wot ’e was going to do?” ses the conjurer.  “You must settle it between you now.  I’ll ’ave nothing more to do with it.”

“All right, John Biggs,” ses Bob Pretty; “if ’e won’t do it, I will.  If it can be done, I don’t s’pose it matters who does it.  I don’t think anybody could smash up a watch better than that.”

John Biggs looked at it, and then ’e asked the conjurer once more to do the trick, but ’e wouldn’t.

“It can’t be done now,” he ses; “and I warn you that if that pistol is fired I won’t be responsible for what’ll ’appen.”

“George Kettle shall load the pistol and fire it if ’e won’t,” ses Bob Pretty. “’Aving been in the Militia, there couldn’t be a better man for the job.”