“Neither do I,” Palliser answered, with amiable tolerance. “The American gentleman had better come back himself and disprove it. When you used to talk about the Klondike, he never said anything to make you feel as if he doubted that the other man was dead?”
“Not him,” answered Tummas.
“Eh! Tummas, what art tha talkin' about?” exclaimed Mrs. Hibblethwaite, who was mending at the other end of the room. “I heerd him say mysel, `Suppose th' story hadn't been true an' he was alive somewhere now, it'd make a big change, would na' it?' An' he laughed.”
“I never heerd him,” said Tummas, in stout denial.
“Tha's losin' tha moind,” commented his mother. “As soon as I heerd th' talk about him runnin' away an' takin' th' mad gentleman wi' him I remembered it. An' I remembered as he sat still after it and said nowt for a minute or so, same as if he was thinkin' things over. Theer was summat a bit queer about it.”
“I never heerd him,” Tummas asserted, obstinately, and shut his mouth.
“He were as ready to talk about th' poor gentleman as met with th' accident as tha wert thysel', Tummas,” Mrs. Hibblethwaite proceeded, moved by the opportunity offered for presenting her views on the exciting topic. “He'd ax thee aw sorts o' questions about what tha'd found out wi' pumpin' foak. He'd ax me questions now an' agen about what he was loike to look at, an' how tall he wur. Onct he axed me if I remembered what soart o' chin he had an' how he spoke.”
“It wur to set thee goin' an' please me,” volunteered Tummas, grudgingly. “He did it same as he'd look at th' map to please me an' tell me tales about th' news-lads i' New York.”
It had not seemed improbable that a village cripple tied to a sofa would be ready enough to relate all he knew, and perhaps so much more that it would be necessary to use discretion in selecting statements of value. To drop in and give him a sovereign and let him talk had appeared simple. Lads of his class liked to be listened to, enjoyed enlarging upon and rendering dramatic such material as had fallen into their hands. But Tummas was an eccentric, and instinct led him to close like an oyster before a remote sense of subtly approaching attack. It was his mother, not he, who had provided information; but it was not sufficiently specialized to be worth much.
“What did tha say he'd run away fur?” Tummas said to his parent later. “He's not one o' th' runnin' away soart.”