“And will that stash the action?” asked Snooks.
“It will not stash ours,” said Locust. “I suppose you mean to go on whether he does or not? Your claim is for assault and slander.”
“As you please, sir.”
“No, no, as you please. I have not been called a thief—they haven’t said that I sell short weight and cheat and defraud the poor: my business will not be ruined—my character is not at stake.”
“Let un have it, sir; he be a bad un,” and here he rose to depart. Mr. Locust gave him a professional shake of the hand and wished him good day. But as the door was just about to be closed on his client, he remembered
something which he desired to ask, so he called, “Mr. Snooks!”
“Sir,” said the client.
“Is there any truth in the statement that this Bumpkin beats his wife?”
“I doant rightly know,” said Snooks, in a hesitating voice; “it may be true. I shouldn’t wonder—he’s just the sort o’ man.”
“Just enquire about that, will you?”