Haworth stopped him by swearing again, something more sulphurously than before—so sulphurously, indeed, that Mr. Briarley listened with eyes distended and mouth agape.
"Let's hear what you know about th' thing," Haworth ended.
Mr. Briarley shut his mouth. He would have kept it shut if he had dared.
"I dunnot know nowt," he answered, with patient mendacity. "I wur na wi' em."
"You know plenty," said Haworth. "Out with it, if you don't want to get yourself into trouble. Who was the chap that threw the stone?"
"I—I dunnot know."
"If you don't tell me," said Haworth, through his clenched teeth, "it'll be worse for you. It was you I let the truth slip to; you were the first chap that heard it, and you were the first chap that started the row and egged it on."
"I did na egg it on," protested Mr. Briarley. "It did na need no eggin' on. They pounced on it like cats on a bird. I did na mean to tell 'em owt about it. I'm a dom'd foo'. I'm th' dom'dest foo' fro here to Dillup."
"Aye," said Haworth, sardonically, "that's like enow. Who was the chap that threw the stone?"