‘I ask you where is the risk?’ repeated Ralph, emphatically.
‘Where the risk?’ returned Squeers, rubbing his knees still harder. ‘Why, it an’t necessary to mention. Certain subjects is best awoided. Oh, you know what risk I mean.’
‘How often have I told you,’ said Ralph, ‘and how often am I to tell you, that you run no risk? What have you sworn, or what are you asked to swear, but that at such and such a time a boy was left with you in the name of Smike; that he was at your school for a given number of years, was lost under such and such circumstances, is now found, and has been identified by you in such and such keeping? This is all true; is it not?’
‘Yes,’ replied Squeers, ‘that’s all true.’
‘Well, then,’ said Ralph, ‘what risk do you run? Who swears to a lie but Snawley; a man whom I have paid much less than I have you?’
‘He certainly did it cheap, did Snawley,’ observed Squeers.
‘He did it cheap!’ retorted Ralph, testily; ‘yes, and he did it well, and carries it off with a hypocritical face and a sanctified air, but you! Risk! What do you mean by risk? The certificates are all genuine, Snawley had another son, he HAS been married twice, his first wife is dead, none but her ghost could tell that she didn’t write that letter, none but Snawley himself can tell that this is not his son, and that his son is food for worms! The only perjury is Snawley’s, and I fancy he is pretty well used to it. Where’s your risk?’
‘Why, you know,’ said Squeers, fidgeting in his chair, ‘if you come to that, I might say where’s yours?’
‘You might say where’s mine!’ returned Ralph; ‘you may say where’s mine. I don’t appear in the business, neither do you. All Snawley’s interest is to stick well to the story he has told; and all his risk is, to depart from it in the least. Talk of your risk in the conspiracy!’
‘I say,’ remonstrated Squeers, looking uneasily round: ‘don’t call it that! Just as a favour, don’t.’