"No, p'raps 'e won't. But 'e knaw 'e've done it and the Lorrd knaw and 'e'll be brought to judgment."
"You think it'll come to light some day?" she asked eagerly.
"I dunno about that, God's ways bain't our ways."
"Well, what should you do about it?"
He considered. "I should 'old me tongue and say nothing about it, if I was you. 'Cos if't got to policeman's ears you'd be 'ad up for your words."
His caution, that of a law-ignoring folk who manage their own affairs and keep silence concerning them, did not satisfy her.
"But if he did do't," she persisted, "'e ought to be punished."
"You knaw, mother, there's no proof so 'tedn't no good to say anything about it."
"Well," she said sharply, "there's this—bottle's gone out of cupboard! What's become of it? I s'pose that won't be any proof? And Leadville seem to be very uneasy, but that won't be any proof uther? And I feel sure in me bones and veins 'e wanted for 'er to die, but that's no proof?"
Tom was not to be moved. "A still tongue," said he, "make a wise 'ead and anyway a craikin' tongue do often mean a sore one."