"That must pass, Mr. Justice--sapperment!"
"And who will you be pleased to call yourself, then, for the present," said Glossin, "just until I shall bring some other folks to refresh your memory, concerning who you are, or at least who you have been?"
"What bin I?--donner and blitzen! I bin Jans Janson, from Cuxhaven--what sall lch bin?"
Glossin took from a case which was in the apartment a pair of small pocket pistols, which he loaded with ostentatious care. "You may retire, "said he to his clerk," and carry the people with You, Scrow--but wait in the lobby within call."
The clerk would have offered some remonstrances to his patron on the danger of remaining alone with such a desperate character, although ironed beyond the possibility of active exertion, but Glossin waved him off impatiently. When he had left the room, the justice took two short turns through the apartment, then drew his chair opposite to the prisoner, so as to confront him fully, placed the pistols before him in readiness, and said in a steady voice, "You are Dirk Hatteraick of Flushing, are you not?"
The prisoner turned his eye instinctively to the door, as if he apprehended some one was listening. Glossin rose, opened the door, so that from the chair in which his prisoner sat he might satisfy himself there was no eavesdropper within hearing, then shut it, resumed his seat, and repeated his question, "You are Dirk Hatteraick, formerly of the Yungfrauw Haagenslaapen are you not?"
"Tousand deyvils!--and if you know that, why ask me?" said the prisoner.
"Because I am surprised to see you in the very last place where you ought to be, if you regard your safety," observed Glossin coolly.