Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Wherein Mr. Peter Magnus grows jealous, and the middle-aged Lady apprehensive, which brings the Pick

           

           ‘Theotherprincipal,yousay,hasabsconded,ma’am?’

           ‘Yes,’repliedMissWitherfield,withashortcough.

           ‘Verywell,’saidthemagistrate.‘Thesearetwocut-throatsfromLondon,whohavecomedownheretodestroyhisMajesty’spopulation,thinkingthatatthisdistancefromthecapital,thearmofthelawisweakandparalysed.Theyshallbemadeanexampleof.Drawupthewarrants,Mr.Jinks.Muzzle!’

           ‘Yes,yourWorship.’

           ‘IsGrummerdownstairs?’

           ‘Yes,yourWorship.’

           ‘Sendhimup.’TheobsequiousMuzzleretired,andpresentlyreturned,introducingtheelderlygentlemaninthetop-boots,whowaschieflyremarkableforabottle-nose,ahoarsevoice,asnuff-colouredsurtout,andawanderingeye.

           ‘Grummer,’saidthemagistrate.

           ‘YourWash-up.’

           ‘Isthetownquietnow?’

           ‘Prettywell,yourWash-up,’repliedGrummer.‘Pop’larfeelinghasinameasuresubsided,consekenso’theboyshavingdispersedtocricket.’

           ‘Nothingbutvigorousmeasureswilldointhesetimes,Grummer,’saidthemagistrate,inadeterminedmanner.‘iftheauthorityoftheking’sofficersissetatnaught,wemusthavetheriotactread.Ifthecivilpowercannotprotectthesewindows,Grummer,themilitarymustprotectthecivilpower,andthewindowstoo.Ibelievethatisamaximoftheconstitution,Mr.

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