“Yes; that you was, Master Mort’n: that you was.”
“And now you see my poor old father condemned for a crime he did not commit, and that must have been done by the wretch who threw those jewels into the water. You know who did it. You saw him that night, and you will not speak.”
“Dursn’t, my lad, dursn’t,” growled Miggles.
“You did see him, then?”
Dick Miggles looked in all directions to avoid his questioner’s eye, but in vain: Morton went up close to him, and took him by the thick blue woollen jersey he wore, and held him.
“You did see him?”
“Well, all right, then; all right, then, Master Mort’n. I did see him,” growled Miggles, “but I won’t say another word.”
“You shall, if I tear it out of you,” cried Morton. “Now then: who was it?”
“Dunno!” growled Miggles.
“You do know, sir. Speak out.”