A small jet of gas
was left burning. Charles, returning late from the club in a mild stage
of inebriation, entered the house by means of his latch-key, not without
difficulty, and at once fell headlong over the sofa, and the worthy
official sleeping thereon. When he heard the cry of "Burglars!" it
occurred to him that he must have been knocked down by one of the gang;
and he joined his own voice to the uproar,--
"BuggLARS! buggLARS!"
An instant after, there was a grip on his collar.
"Now I got ye, ye vill'in! What ye doin' on here?"
"What _you_ doin' on, you rasc'l, inagen'l'm'n'shouse thistim'o'night?"
"Arnswer me, you scoundrel, breakin' into a peaceful dwellin'!"
"Tha'swhat_I_wan'to know.--How'd _you_com'ere? What'syerbusiness?
Le'gomycollar. I'lsen'forp'lice. Le'go!"
Tipsy as he was, he managed to give his assailant a pretty substantial
token of regard under the ear, with his knuckles.
"Now young'un, you're drunk! I won't hit you back, 'cause a case for
manslaughter might be expensive. How'd you break in here, when you are
so drunk you can't stand? I don't see how you could get in with the door
open.
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