Mind that.' 'Mr Tappertit, your knowledge of human nature--' 'Wait a minute,' said Sim, folding his arms with a dreadful calmness.
'Now I come to THE point.

Sir, there is a villain at that Maypole, a monster in human shape, a vagabond of the deepest dye, that unless you get rid of and have kidnapped and carried off at the very least--nothing less will do--will marry your son to that young woman, as certainly and as surely as if he was the Archbishop of Canterbury himself.

He will, sir, for the hatred and malice that he bears to you; let alone the pleasure of doing a bad action, which to him is its own reward.

If you knew how this chap, this Joseph Willet--that's his name--comes backwards and forwards to our house, libelling, and denouncing, and threatening you, and how I shudder when I hear him, you'd hate him worse than I do,--worse than I do, sir,' said Mr Tappertit wildly, putting his hair up straighter, and making a crunching noise with his teeth; 'if sich a thing is possible.' 'A little private vengeance in this, Mr Tappertit ?' 'Private vengeance, sir, or public sentiment, or both combined--destroy him,' said Mr Tappertit.

'Miggs says so too.