I know this
fellow has succeeded in making himself something incurably
commonplace and comic. I know you can't get up a persecution of old
Toole or Little Tich. If I were to tell Hoggs or Halkett that old
Jink was an assassin, they would almost die of laughter before my
eyes. Oh, I don't say their laughter's quite innocent, though it's
genuine in its way. They want old Jink, and they couldn't do without
him. I don't say I'm quite innocent. I like Hoggs; I don't want him
to be down and out; and he'd be done for if Jink can't pay for his
coronet. They were devilish near the line at the last election. But
the only real objection to it is that it's impossible. Nobody would
believe it; it's not in the picture. The crooked weathercock would
always turn it into a joke."
"Don't you think this is infamous?" asked March, quietly.
"I think a good many things," replied the other. "If you people
ever happen to blow the whole tangle of society to hell with
dynamite, I don't know that the human race will be much the worse.
But don't be too hard on me merely because I know what society is.
That's why I moon away my time over things like stinking fish."
There was a pause as he settled himself down again by the stream;
and then he added:
"I told you before I had to throw back the big fish.
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