When you or I show one half his ability, we're free to mock him--in my house." For the first time within the memory of any man present, the mimic wilted.
"I--I did not know," he stammered, "that old man was your friend." Very quiet, and a little flushed, he took his seat among the others.
"I like him no end." Still more quiet, Heywood appealed to the company.
"Part for his hard luck--stuck down, a three-year term, in this neglected hole.

Enemies in power, higher up.

Fang, the Sword-Pen, in great favor up there .-- What?
Oh, said nothing directly, of course.
Friendly call, and all that.

But his indirections speak straight enough.
We understood each other.

The dregs of the town are all stirred up--bottomside topside--danger point.