“Well, if my friend doesn’t object. You said to your father—?”
“It’s here he’ll try it on, if he means doing owt to-neet. So we clambered ovver th’ wall into th’ Plantation, just above th’ Warren House.”
“Have you any reason for being sure of the spot?”
“Yes, it were within a yard or two o’ wheer Mr. Horsfall were shot by th’ Luddites i’ th’ Lud time. There’s th’ bullet marks on th’ wall, plain to be seen i’ dayleet.”
“I believe that’s so, your Worships,” said Mr. Alison, and the Chairman nodded assent.
“Well, we cowered down among th’ bracken, and after a bit Ephraim there loped ovver th’ wall. A couple o’ hares started up fro’ th’ cover an’ he downed ’em wi’ his stick, an’ sammed ’em up an’ knocked their yeads agen his booit toes, an’ nipped ’em into his pocket. He weren’t three yards fro’ wheer we legged, an’ his back were to us. So we upped an’ on to him, an’ downed him.”
“Did he struggle much? Did he resist you?”
“He nearly bote mi thumb off, an’ it took both me and mi feyther—he’s an owd man, but varry peert—all us time to howd him till aw slipped the derbies on to him. Then we searched him an’ fun’ these beauties on him. Stock does, they be, an’ a shame for annybody to ha’ killed ’em.”
“Well, I think that’s all I need ask you,” said Mr. Alison, and sat down.
Then Mr. Blackburn rose ponderously, puffing out his tremulous cheeks, and breathing heavily as though he had just come to the surface after a long swim under water. And he wagged a big fat forefinger at Tom o’ Jack’s, and he certainly didn’t look asleep now.