"Let him slip!" almost screamed the exasperated Basset, whom Tom's manner of treating the subject was not calculated to mollify. "Let him slip, you say. I'll see him, I'll see him"—but in vain he sought words to express the direful purpose; language broke down under the effort.
"Poh, poh," said Tom, "don't take on so, man—forget and forgive—luck's been on his side, that's all."
"I tell you what," said Basset, "who do you think struck me the other night?"
"Why, what could it be but Lanfear's ghost?"
"Don't talk to me about sperits; whose afraid o' them? But tell us one thing, did you see Holden when you looked into the window!"
"What makes you ask?" said the cautious Tom, "supposing I did, or supposing I didn't?"
"'Cause I know you didn't. Now it's my opinion," said Basset, lowering his voice and looking round suspiciously as if he were afraid of an action for slander should he be overheard, "that Holden himself made the assault."
"That ain't possible," said Gladding, confidently. "You and Prime stood by the door and would ha' seen him if he'd come out there, and I know he didn't jump out o' the window, for I should ha' seen him."
"But, perhaps he wasn't in the house at all," persisted Basset; "it was plaguy dark, and perhaps he heard us coming and hid himself outside on purpose to play the trick and take an unfair advantage on us."
"You'll never make me believe that story," said Gladding, shaking his head. "I'd as soon believe it was me as the old man. Prime and me are of the same opinion, and we should both be witnesses agin you."