"Now, ma'am, will you state your business?" said the magistrate.
"It is of a very painful kind, sir," said Miss Witherfield. Very likely, ma'am," said the magistrate.
"Compose your feelings, ma'am." Here Mr. Nupkins looked benignant. "And then tell me what legal business brings you here, ma'am." Here the magistrate triumphed over the man; and he looked stern again.
"It is very distressing to me, sir, to give this information," said Miss Witherfield, "but I fear a duel is going to be fought here."
"Here, ma'am?" said the magistrate. "Where, ma'am?"
"In Ipswich."
"In Ipswich, ma'am! A duel in Ipswich!" said the magistrate, perfectly aghast at the notion. "Impossible, ma'am; nothing of the kind can be contemplated in this town, I am persuaded. Bless my soul, ma'am, are you aware of the activity of our local magistracy? Do you happen to have heard, ma'am, that I rushed into a prize-ring on the fourth of May last, attended by only sixty special constables; and, at the hazard of falling a sacrifice to the angry passions of an infuriated multitude, prohibited a pugilistic contest between the Middlesex Dumpling and the Suffolk Bantam? A duel in Ipswich, ma'am! I don't think—I do not think," said the magistrate, reasoning with himself, "that any two men can have had the hardihood to plan such a breach of the peace, in this town."
"My information is unfortunately but too correct," said the middle-aged lady, "I was present at the quarrel."
"It's a most extraordinary thing," said the astounded magistrate. "Muzzle!"
"Yes, your worship."
"Send Mr. Jinks here, directly! Instantly."
"Yes, your worship."
Muzzle retired; and a pale, sharp-nosed, half-fed, shabbily-clad clerk, of middle age, entered the room.
