“Cause we know’d better. Caleb here was going to fetch old Blunt from the town; but I says if you fetch him, he’ll go back and tell the police.”
“And how do you know that I shall not?” said Oldroyd, tartly.
“Gent as goes out of his way to tent a poor labrer’s wife when her chap’s out o’ work, and does so much for the old folks, arn’t likely to do such a dirty trick as that. Eh, mates?”
“Humph! you seem to have a pretty good opinion of me,” said Oldroyd.
“Yes, sir, we knows a gen’leman when we sees one. We’ll pay you, sir, all right. You won’t let out on us, seeing how bad the poor fellow is.”
Oldroyd was silent and thoughtful for a few moments, and then he turned sharply upon Caleb Kent.
“Look here, sir,” he said; “you’ve got a tongue and it runs rather too fast. You made an ugly charge against that man’s late master.”
“I said I see him shute him,” said Caleb.
“And you did not see anything of the kind.”
“You gents allus stick up for each other,” muttered Caleb.