their acquaintance. Perhaps that uncomfortable experience (so it struck him) was now to be his.
It is said that drowning men can review the deeds of a lifetime in a minute, and that, in a few moments of acute danger, the actions of many years pass swiftly through the brain, as though made visible in a rapidly rolled out panorama. Certainly little Mr. Bouncer, in less time than it would have taken to utter the words, thought to himself—or, as he phrased it, "deeply pondering, like those old classical Greek parties,"—that certain events in his college career might be turned against him in an unpleasant manner. Glancing mentally at these, as he looked into the face of the burly, broad-shouldered individual, he said to himself—I know that I have a great amount of ticks—a fearful lot I 'm afraid; but I 've never been pressed for them, and I had no fear of running a horrid mucker. Yet I seem to be in Queer Street. Is this old bald-pate some species of attorney? They often wear black togs and white chokers. If so, he has got his bailiff in attendance, and has, perhaps, come to arrest me, and carry me off to the limbo of a debtor's prison. If that's their game, although they are two to one, I must show fight, and demand an explanation. I am not going to be pulled up without a struggle.
These thoughts rapidly coursed through Mr. Bouncer's brain; and, acting upon the idea that they conveyed to him, that he was being arrested for unpaid debts, and was being clandestinely conveyed to a sponging-house, of which his two companions were, respectively, the proprietor and gaoler, he turned to the bald-pated gentleman, and asked, "Do I owe you any money?"
"Owe me money?" repeated Dr. Dustacre.
