Bred in the Bone; Or, Like Father, Like Son: A NovelPayn, James
General
Bred in the Bone; Or, Like Father, Like Son: A Novel
Payn, James
English fiction
"Mr. Coe will stay where he is," said Dodge, peremptorily, as he led the
way into a little room that opened from the gate-keeper's parlor.
"I thank you for that, Mr. Dodge," said Richard, gratefully.
"Not at all, Sir. If you have any thing of a compromising nature about
you--revolvers or such like--that's my business and the beak's, not
his.--Officer do your duty."
Richard was searched accordingly. He had no revolver; but what
astonished himself more than it did the searcher was that a cigar was
found loose in his breast-pocket.
"Why, this must be the one that I gave to you this morning, Mr. Dodge."
"Just so, Sir. I put it back again as we came along. You know my motto.
When you come to be your own master again--which I hope'll be soon--then
I'll smoke it with you with pleasure; they'll keep it for you very
careful, you may depend upon it, and baccar is a thing as don't spoil.
That's a pretty bit of jewelry now--_that_ is." Mr. Dodge's remark
referred to a gold locket, with the word "Harry" outside it, written in
diamonds; and within a portrait of her, which he had executed himself.
"That's a token of some favorite brother, I dare say?"
"Yes," said Richard. "Might I keep that, if you please; or, at all
events, might I ask that it should not be shown to the man in yonder
room? It's my own, Mr. Dodge," added he, earnestly, "upon my word and
honor."
"No doubt, Sir; no doubt. There's no charge against you except as to
these notes. I must put it down on the list, because that's the law; but
you can keep it, and welcome, so far as I am concerned; though I am
afraid the Cross Key folks will not be so very easy with you."
"The Cross Key folks?"
"Well, Mr. Yorke, it's no use to hide from you that you will be sent to
Cross Key; that's the nearest jail to Gethin, I believe. I am afraid the
beak will be for committing you; the sum is so large, and the case so
clear, that I doubt whether he'll entertain the question of bail. You
have no friends in Plymouth, either, you told me."
"None," said Richard, sadly; "unless," he added, in a whisper, "I can
count you as one."
"Officer, just fetch a glass of water," said Dodge; "the prisoner says
he feels faint.--Look here, young gentleman," continued he, earnestly,
as soon as they were alone, "this is no use; I can do nothing for you
whatever, except wish you luck, which I do most heartily. I am as
helpless as a baby in this matter. I can only give you one piece of good
advice: when the beak asks if you've any thing to say, unless you have
something that will clear you, and can be proved--you know best about
that--say, 'I reserve my defense;' then, as soon as you're committed,
ask to see your solicitor; send for Weasel of Plymouth; your friends
have money, I conclude. Hush! Here's the water, young man; just sip a
little, and you'll soon come round."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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