"Who is this pure young man with whom the beautiful Pepeeta is so safe? What is it you call him, David Crocker?"
"'Tain't his real name."
"What is his real name?"
"D'n I ever t-t-tell you?"
"No."
"Real name's C-C-Corson—David Corson."
"What?" cried the judge, springing to his feet.
"C-C-Corson—I tell you," stuttered the quack, too drunk to notice the peculiar effect of his announcement.
"What do you know about him?" the judge asked with ill-suppressed excitement.
"Keep still—wan' go sleep."