Hereupon ensued a roar of laughter, with much slapping of thighs,

and stamping of feet, while the bullet-headed man solemnly

emptied his tankard, which was the signal for two or three of

those nearest to vie for its possession, during which Tom Cragg

sucked dreamily at his pipe and stared placidly up at the ceiling.

"Now, Tom," said a tall, bony individual, chiefly remarkable in

possessing but one eye, and that so extremely pale and watery as

to give one the idea that it was very much overworked, "now, Tom,"

said he, setting down the refilled tankard at the great man's

elbow with a triumphant flourish, "tell us 'ow you shook 'ands

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wi' the Prince Regent."

"Ah! tell us," chimed the rest.

"Well," said the bullet-headed man, stooping to blow the froth

from his ale, "it was arter I beat Jack Nolan of Brummagem. The

Prince 'e come a-runnin' to me 'e did, as I sat in my corner

a-workin' at a loose tusk. 'Tom,' 'e says, 'Tom, you be a wonder.'

'I done Jack Nolan up proper I think, your 'Ighness,' says I.

'Tom,' says 'e, wi' tears in 'is eyes, 'you 'ave; an' if I 'ad my

way,' says 'e, 'I'd make you Prime Minister to-morrer!' 'e says.

An' slapped me on the back 'e did, wi' 'is merry own 'and, an'

likewise gave me this 'ere pin," saying which, he pointed to

a flaming diamond horseshoe which he wore stuck through his

neckerchief. The stones were extremely large and handsome, looking

very much out of place on the fellow's rough person, and seemed in

some part to bear out his story. Though, indeed, as regarded his

association with the Prince Regent, whose tastes were at all times

peculiar (to say the least), and whose love for "the fancy" was

notorious, I thought it, on the whole, very probable; for despite

Craggy's words, foolishly blatant though they sounded, there was

about him in his low, retreating brow, his small, deep-set eyes,

his great square jowl and heavy chin, a certain air there was no

mistaking. I also noticed that the upper half of one ear was

unduly thick and swollen, which is a mark (I believe) of the

professional pugilist alone.

"Tom," cried the one-eyed man, "wot's all this we heerd of Ted

Jarraway of Swansea bein' knocked out in five rounds by this 'ere

Lord Vibbot, up in London?"

"Vibbot?" repeated Cragg, frowning into his tankard, "I 'aven't

'eard of no Vibbot, neither lord, earl, nor dook."




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