He saw himself tricked, cheated out of a day's pleasure, made
to look small in everyone's eyes.
He turned out the two other florins upon the counter, and at the
first ring of them on the wood he knew the truth, and his passion
blazed out fiercely against the man who had fooled him under cover of
the darkness.
"I'll have the law of him!" he stammered, almost speechless with
anger. "I know where he is, or pretty near, and I'll set the p'lice
on him, I will. Why--why--I might have been had up myself for trying
to pass bad money! Oh I'll make him sorry he ever tried his games on
me, I will!"
Back through the waiting crowd Bob elbowed his way, in search of a
policeman. His disappointment about the football match was swallowed
up in his longing for revenge.
"Look here, bobby," he said, going up to the constable who was
standing on the platform to see the crowd off peacefully. "Look at
this!" thrusting the coins under his very nose. "Bad money, that's
what 'tis,--passed off on me last night! But I know who done it, and
where he is,--leastways where he was last night, and he can't have
got so very far. He's Tom Smith, the hawker, and he'd got his van in
a field nigh 'pon the top of Woodend Lane last night--put it there
without a with-your-leave or a by-your-leave! Trespassing, that's
what he was, and that's another thing you can have him up for.
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