'im was awful."]

"It's no worse for you than it was for me," ses Bob.

"Put it down," screams the conjurer; "put it down. You'll kill 'arf the
men in the room if it goes off."

"Be careful where you aim, George," ses Sam Jones. "P'r'aps he'd better
'ave a chair all by hisself in the middle of the room."

It was all very well for Sam Jones to talk, but the conjurer wouldn't sit
on a chair by 'imself. He wouldn't sit on it at all. He seemed to be
all legs and arms, and the way 'e struggled it took four or five men to
'old 'im.

"Why don't you keep still?" ses John Biggs. "George Kettle'll shoot it
in your pocket all right. He's the best shot in Claybury."

"Help! Murder!" says the conjurer, struggling. "He'll kill me. Nobody
can do the trick but me."

"But you say you won't do it," ses John Biggs. "Not now," ses the
conjurer; "I can't."

"Well, I'm not going to 'ave my watch lost through want of trying," ses
John Biggs. "Tie 'im to the chair, mates."

"All right, then," ses the conjurer, very pale. "Don't tie me; I'll sit
still all right if you like, but you'd better bring the chair outside in
case of accidents. Bring it in the front."