"No, no, young sir--can't be--I knows a genelman when I sees one, but
it's no go--Jerry's a rare desperate cove an' oncommon sly--"
"Then give him the water yourself--"
"Not me, sir!"
"I tell you the man is faint with thirst and ill-usage--"
"Then let 'im faint. A young gent like you don't want nothin' to do
wi' th' likes o' 'im--let 'im faint--"
At this I set down the jug and taking out my purse, extracted a
guinea.
"Landlord," said I, tossing the coin upon the table, "a bottle of your
best rum for the officers--a bowl of punch would do none of us any
harm, I think."
"Lor'!" exclaimed the landlady, sitting down heavily.
"By goles!" quoth the landlord, reaching for the guinea.
"Allus know a genelman when I sees one!" said the man Tom, making a
leg to me and knuckling shaggy eyebrow. So they suffered me to take
the water to their prisoner, who drank avidly, his eyes upraised to
mine in speechless gratitude.
"Don't believe 'em, brother," he whispered under cover of the talk
where the others clustered around the hearth watching the preparations
for the punch; "don't believe 'em, friend--I'm no murderer an' my pore
old stricken mother on 'er knees for me this night, an' my sweet wife
an' babbies weepin' their pretty eyes out, an' all for me. I'm a pore
lame dog, brother, an' here's a stile as be 'ard to come over;
howsomever, whether 'tis sweet wind an' open road for me by an' by, or
Tyburn Tree--why God love ye for this, brother!"
Here he closed his eyes and bowed his head as one in prayer, for I saw
his swollen lips moving painfully, then glancing up, beheld the man
Jimmy watching us.
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