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I suppose you didn't know any better than to do what you did." "What's that?" scowled Dan Jaggers. "If you want to apologize, and get out of the chair, I'll let it go at that," pursued Jack, coolly. "Hey?" demanded Dan Jaggers, aghast. "Me apologize?" He sprang up suddenly, resting a broad paw heavily on Jack's shoulder.
Pip," said my guardian, whose flask of sherry smelt like a whole caskful, as he hastily refreshed himself, "but I shall by this means be able to check your bills, and to pull you up if I find you outrunning the constable. Of course you'll go wrong somehow, but that's no fault of mine." After I had pondered a little over this encouraging sentiment, I asked Mr. Jaggers if I could send for a coach?
"That's all but the last thing I've got to do," pursued Josh Owen, drawing back. "Boy, ye did yer worst for me, when ye had the chance. And ye was the means of havin' Danny locked up. Mebbe Dan Jaggers did give me some sleepin' stuff, an' maybe he did worry my own share of the money from me; but, boy, ye never knew how much store I set by Danny in spite o' some things.
"Regular conspiracy," said Jaggers censoriously. "Ought to be ashamed of themselves. Doin' down a pore man like that." The three moved out into the yard. A little later trainer and jockey stood in the gate of the yard and watched Joses shuffle away across the Downs. "He's all right," said Chukkers, sucking the ivory charm he always carried. "Ain't 'alf bitter."
Through the gate of the yard came Joshua Owen, a man of forty-five, of medium height, broad-shouldered, black-haired and with a frame that spoke of great physical power and endurance. Yet he had restless, rather evil-looking eyes. He did not look like the sort of man whom a timid fellow would want for an enemy. "Hold on there, Unc," greeted Dan Jaggers, motioning his foreman-uncle aside.
You're not in a fit state to come here, if you can't come here without spluttering like a bad pen. What do you mean by it?" "A man can't help his feelings, Mr. Wemmick," pleaded Mike. "His what?" demanded Wemmick, quite savagely. "Say that again!" "Now look here my man," said Mr. Jaggers, advancing a step, and pointing to the door. "Get out of this office. I'll have no feelings here. Get out."
Without speaking to me about it?" demanded Joshua Owen, looking anything but pleased. "Of course you'll let Pollard know that you're foreman and take on and lay off your own gang," hinted Jaggers. "Now, you leave me alone, Dan, boy, to know what to do," retorted Mr. Owen. Then he stepped on toward the long shed, a very grim look on his face.
"Won a small race at Lingfield." "Who's riding?" "One o' the Putnam lads. Carries his prayer-book in his pocket. Mar makes 'em for luck!" "He can foot it." "I'd like to see a walkin'-race between that mare and the big un. What's his price?" He leaned over to the ring below and asked. "Twenties," came the answer. Jaggers heard and nudged Ikey.
"Oh, I'll give up the money," promised Dan Jaggers, willingly. "Thank you," returned Jack, dryly. "However, we'll take it ourselves and right now," he added, as he finished tying the knots about Dan's wrists. The rifling of Jaggers's pockets brought to light all of Mr. Farnum's money except the five dollars Dan had spent in Dunhaven the night before.
As we came out of the prison through the lodge, I found that the great importance of my guardian was appreciated by the turnkeys, no less than by those whom they held in charge. "Well, Mr. Wemmick," said the turnkey, who kept us between the two studded and spiked lodge gates, and who carefully locked one before he unlocked the other, "what's Mr. Jaggers going to do with that water-side murder?
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