'"Twill end well enough," says he, and without more ado he walks back again.
'So you know the rest—how that business ended, at least for him.'
'And you are that very Zekiel Irons who was a witness on the trial?' said Mervyn, with a peculiar look of fear and loathing fixed on him.
'The same,' said Irons, doggedly; and after a pause, 'but I swore to very little; and all I said was true—though it wasn't the whole truth. Look to the trial, Sir, and you'll see 'twas Mr. Archer and Glascock that swore home against my lord—not I. And I don't think myself, Glascock was in the room at all when it happened—so I don't.'
'And where is that wretch, Glascock, and that double murderer Archer; where is he?'
'Well, Glascock's making clay.'
'What do you mean?'
'Under ground, this many a day. Listen: Mr. Archer went up to London, and he was staying at the Hummums, and Glascock agreed with me to leave the "Pied Horse." We were both uneasy, and planned to go up to London together; and what does he do—nothing less would serve him—but he writes a sort of letter, asking money of Mr. Archer under a threat. This, you know, was after the trial. Well, there came no answer; but after a while—all on a sudden—Mr. Archer arrives himself at the "Pied Horse;" I did not know then that Glascock had writ to him—for he meant to keep whatever he might get to himself. "So," says Mr. Archer to me, meeting me by the pump in the stable-yard, "that was a clever letter you and Glascock wrote to me in town."
'So I told him 'twas the first I heard of it.
'"Why," says he, "do you mean to tell me you don't want money?"