Mr. Wigmore consulted a book weighing ten pounds. For minutes he regarded the pages darkly. Then he spoke:
“Hur-r-rumph! To speak ex capite, your case is not unlike the case of Bullpitt versus Nudd, 67 Rhode Island, 478, in which the honorable court ruled that the unlawful abduction of animals was contra bonos mores; and, if I remember correctly—and I think I do—fined the defendant two dollars and costs. Your case, sir, clearly involves a definition of meum and tuum; and, speaking cum grano salis, it has a precedent, if my memory is not at fault, and I do not believe it is, in the case of the International Knitted Knight Klose Korporation versus Gumbel et al., 544 South Carolina, 69, although I must warn you that it will be a question of adjudication just how far the doctrine of caveat emptor conflicts with that of cave canem. You can see that for yourself, can’t you?”
Ug, utterly numb of brain, nodded.
Mr. Wigmore thoughtfully rubbed a bony chin with a thumb.
“Inter se,” he observed, “it will take much study to determine what your remedy is. Your pig was caught in flagrante delicto, according to the defendant, which would make him particeps criminis, would it not?”
Ug gulped.
“It might,” said Mr. Wigmore, “be possible to obtain a writ of habeas corpus. Or again we might have the defendant indicted for abduction. Possibly a question of riparian rights is involved. I hesitate to say without consulting an authority on torts. Have you ten dollars?”
Ug had. He produced it and saw it vanish into a recess beneath the tails of Mr. Wigmore’s long coat.
“Pray wait here,” said Mr. Wigmore, “while I go into conference.”
Mr. Wigmore went into the other room and the door closed behind him. He watched the men pitching horseshoes in the street below for ten minutes, and then returned, with grave face, to the sanctum where Ug waited, perspiring freely.