"And what did you do, Muff?" asks Mr. Manhug.

"Ah, that was the finishing card of all. I put the gas out, and was
walking off as quietly as could be, when some policemen who heard the row
outside met me at the door, and wouldn't let me pass. I said I would, and
they said I should not, until we came to scuffling, and then one of them
calling to some more, told them to take me to Bow-street, which they did;
but I made them carry me though. When I got into the office they had not
any especial charge to make against me, and the old bird behind the
partition said I might go about my business; but, as ill luck would have
it, another of the unboiled ones recognised me as one of the party who had
upset the wooden blocks--he knew me again by my d--d Taglioni."

"And what did they do to you?"

"Marched me across the yard and locked me up; when to my great consolation
in my affliction, I found Simpson, crying and twisting up his
pocket-handkerchief, as if he was wringing it; and hoping his friends
would not hear of his disgrace through the _Times_."

"What a love you are, Simpson!" observes Mr. Jones patronisingly. "Why,
how the deuce could they, if you gave a proper name? I hope you called
yourself James Edwards."

Mr. Simpson blushes, blows his nose, mutters something about his card-case
and telling an untruth, which excites much merriment; and Mr. Muff
proceeds:--

"The beak wasn't such a bad fellow after all, when we went up in the