"It won't wash," answered Jack, "'cause I say it wos the other way."
"Because you say! You're a creditable kind of witness, you are—such a respectable character—you can show such a clean record, you can—and as for telling a dozen or two lies, who would believe you capable of such a thing, Jack?"
"All very true, guv'nor, wuss luck—but it don't make black white, 'cause I'm a wrong 'un."
"Doesn't it? There's no telling what a smart lawyer can do with a witness like you in the box. You'd twist and squirm like a skinned eel. But we'll pass that for the present, and come to something more important. You say that at the commencement of the quarrel Louis cried, 'I've done with you, and my mother shall be done with you.' Are you positive he said just those words? Be very careful about this, Jack."
"If 'e didn't say jest them words," Jack replied, "'e sed somethink so near to 'em that yer couldn't tell the difference. But I don't see wot's that got to do with it."
"It isn't for you to see. Make up your mind to one thing—that I know a good deal more about the affair than you do. You are positive he said, 'My mother shall be done with you?'"
"I'll swear to it, guv'nor. Wot should I 'ave knowed about 'is mother if 'e 'adn't spoke about 'er, 'isself? 'Ow wos I to guess 'e 'ad a mother when I didn't know who 'e wos or where 'e come from?"
"That seems conclusive," I said. "By the way, did you happen to hear Maxwell or Louis mention the name of Annette?"
"Not as I remember."
"Annette Lourbet," I said, to jog his memory. "A Frenchwoman."