The man relaxed his grip on Tom’s collar.
“Look ’ere,” he said, “if what you say turns out to be true, I won’t give you in charge to the police, like I meant to do.”
“It is true, every word,” said Tom solemnly. “Every bloomin’ word of it.”
“What did you say your name was again?” asked the farmer’s wife.
“Stevenson,” replied Tom; “Joe Stevenson.”
“Why you said Robinson first,” exclaimed the farmer.
“No, I never,” protested Tom; “I said Stevenson.”
“I think it was Stevenson, Jacob,” said the wife.
“I’ll swear he said Robinson,” muttered the farmer. “Anyway Stevenson or Robinson, it don’t matter which, for now, you go straight up to the house there in front o’ me. If you try to get away, I’ll give you a good hidin’ first an’ give you in charge to the police afterwards. D’yer hear?”