“Two Pints,” quoth Jim who was evidently on very good terms with himself.
“Well, I think I haven’t much more to ask you, my good man,” Mr. Blackburn was saying, and seemed on the point of sitting down, to Tom o’ Bill’s manifest relief. “Ah, yes, by-the-bye, you may as well tell me as your father—what did you do with the other two hares?”
“Why, we’ve etten——,” began Tom, then grew red as a boiled lobster; “aw mean, what hares are you talking about?”
“Yes, you was saying, ‘you’ve etten’; pray go on. What have you etten?”
“Aw don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Oh! yes you do, my good man, quite well. I’m talking about the two hares your precious father and you had with you that night, and which you intended to place in the prisoner’s pocket after you had stunned him. I can imagine your surprise when you found he actually had two of his own procuring. Come now, don’t keep us in suspense. You say you’ve etten ’em,’ and I can quite believe it. Did they make good eating?”
But Tom was past answering now. He glared dumbly about the Court, and on every face there he read but one tale, the tale the convicted liar reads.
“I’m off out o’ this,” he said, and made to leave the box. “It’s come to something when a game—keeper cannot be backed up i’ th’ discharge o’ his duty.”
“Gently, gently, Mr. Bradbury,” said our attorney pleasantly, as one soothes a fretful child. “Just one or two questions more, and then perhaps we shall have the pleasure of seeing your respected and venerable father. Do you know Pots and Pans?”
“Pots and Pans?” interjaculated the Chairman. “Oh, I remember—the name of the Druid remains above Bill’s o’ Jacks.”