That is how I learned that Mr. Alibi represented the Crown and Mr. Deadandgone for the prosecutor; also the prisoner, and Mr. Wideawake for the defence. Clever man!
“Now,” said Mr. Bumpkin, “Can’t un get a new trial?”
“I fear not,” said Alibi; “but I should not be in the least surprised if that Wideawake, who represented the prisoner, brought an action against you for false imprisonment and malicious prosecution.”
“What, thic thief?”
“Ah, sir—law is a very deep pit—it’s depth is not to be measured by any moral plummet.”
“Doan’t ’zacly zee’t.”
“Well, it’s this,” said Mr. Alibi. “Whether you’re right or whether you’re wrong, if he brings an action you must defend it—it’s not your being in the right will save you.”
“Then, what wool?” asked Mr. Bumpkin.
Mr. Alibi did not know, unless it was instructing him in due time and not leaving it to the last moment. That seemed the only safe course.
Mr. Bumpkin took off his hat, drew out his handkerchief, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. Then he breathed heavily. Now at this moment a strange phenomenon occurred, not to be passed over in this truthful history. Past Mr. Bumpkin’s ear something shot, in appearance like a human fist, in velocity like a thunderbolt, and unfortunately it alighted full on the nose and eye of the great Mr. Alibi, causing that gentleman to reel back into the arms of the faithful thieves around. I cannot tell from what quarter it proceeded, it was so sudden, but I saw that in the neighbourhood whence it came stood five tall hussars, and I heard a voice say: