The others echoed these sentiments warmly and sincerely; for, as strange as it may appear to those who have not studied human nature at first hand, every word of this eulogy was strictly true.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” said Grotait.  “But we must make allowances.  Mr. Little is smarting under a gross and dastardly outrage, and also under a fair defeat; and thinks his opponents must be monsters.  Now I should like to show him the contrary.  Let Simmons take care of himself.  You have given him good advice, and much to your credit:  now have you nothing to say to us, on your own account?”

“Not a word,” said Henry, steadily

“But suppose I could suggest a way by which you could carry on your trade in Hillsborough, and offend nobody?”

“I should decline to hear it even.  You and I are at war on that.  You have done your worst, and I shall do my best to make you all smart for it, the moment I get a chance.”

Grotait’s cheek reddened with anger at this rebuff, and it cost him an effort to retain his friendly intentions.  “Come, come,” said he, rather surlily, “don’t be in a hurry till you have heard the nature of my proposal.  Here, Jess, a quart of the best ale.  Now, to begin, let us drink and be comfortable together.”

He passed the glass to Little first.  But the young man’s blood was boiling with his wrongs, and this patronizing air irritated him to boot.  He took the glass in his hand, “Here’s quick exposure—­sudden death—­and sure damnation—­to all hypocrites and assassins!” He drained the glass to this toast, flung sixpence on the table, and strode out, white with passion himself, and leaving startled faces behind him.

“So be it,” said Grotait; and his wicked little eye glittered dangerously.

That same evening, a signal, well known to certain workmen in Hillsborough, peeped in the window of “The Cutlers’ Arms.”  And, in consequence, six or seven ill-conditioned fellows gathered about the doors and waited patiently for further information.

Amongst these was a sturdy fellow of about nine-and-twenty, whose existence was a puzzle to his neighbors.  During the last seven years he had worked only eighteen months all together.  The rest of the time he had been on the Saw-Grinders’ box, receiving relief, viz.:  seven shillings and sixpence for his wife, and two shillings for each child; and every now and then he would be seen with three or four sovereigns in his possession.

The name of this masterful beggar, of this invalid in theory, who, in fact, could eat three pounds of steak at a sitting, was Biggs; but it is a peculiarity of Hillsborough to defy baptismal names, and substitute others deemed spicier.  Out of the parish register and the records of the police courts, the scamp was only known as Dan Tucker.

This Dan stood, with others, loitering about “The Cutlers’ Arms.”

Presently out came Grotait, and surveyed the rascally lot.  He beckoned to Dan, and retired.