Galloping Dick
he more cheerfully, “that is well; and we’ll take the witnesses at once.”
“Indeed,” says I, with my eyes on Grubbe, “if your worship will but fetch ’em out of bed, there’s an honest chandler by the name of Tyrwhitt, of this town, and the host of the ‘Pigeons,’ that knows what my business was this day.”
“Tyrwhitt!” says the Justice. “Yes, I know him—a worthy fellow. We’ll have ’em both;” and, opening the door briskly, he gave an order to his men.
Timothy scowled, and scratched his chin, with his evil eyes upon me, who sat down again, indifferent, and finished my wine. But Timothy said nothing, nor indeed did anything further pass between us three until the return of the messengers, when there was a rap on the door, and the Justice stepped across.
“Come in, Tyrwhitt,” he says; “come in, my good man.”
When the fat chandler was got in, and ere the Justice could say another word, he served my purpose better than I could have foreseen.
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