I know Mr Slyme, my friend; this will not do; honesty is the best policy you had better not; you had indeed.' 'Stop' cried the gentleman, stretching forth his right arm, which was so tightly wedged into his threadbare sleeve that it looked like a cloth sausage.

'Wait a bit!' He paused to establish himself immediately in front of the fire with his back towards it.

Then gathering the skirts of his coat under his left arm, and smoothing his moustache with his right thumb and forefinger, he resumed: 'I understand your mistake, and I am not offended.

Why?
Because it's complimentary.

You suppose I would set myself up for Chevy Slyme.
Sir, if there is a man on earth whom a gentleman would feel proud and honoured to be mistaken for, that man is my friend Slyme.