"What is your name, prisoner?" asked Squire Carruthers.
"Samuel Wilson," answered the man.
"Oh! kem now," interposed Mr. Bangs, "thet's a lie, you know; yore name is Merk Devis, end yore a brether of Metthew Devis of the Peskiwenchow tevern, end you were Rawdon's right hend men. We know you, my led, so down't you try any alias games on us."
"Ef you know my name so mighty well, what do you want askin' for't?"
"To see if you can speak the truth," replied Carruthers.
"What other prisoners hev you got asides me?"
"That is none of your business," said the Squire.
"If I might be ellowed to seggest, Squire," whispered the detective, "I think I'd tell him. Whet do you sey?"
"Go on, Mr. Bangs."
"Well, my fine fellow, the Squire ellows me to sey thet the ethers are Newcome, the stowne ketters, and the women."