"Here then is the state of the case," said Affidavy: "if the young man be tried in this county, were it but for killing a farmer's dog, he will die. The name—saving your presence—the name of Gilbert will be hanging matter with any jury. But I'll be short—he bears the king's commission, does he not? the commission of a lieutenant among the royal refugees?"
"And what then?"? said Oran.
"Why then, he must dispute the jurisdiction of the civil tribunal, and claim to be considered a prisoner of war. The attack upon the Folly is somewhat of a civil offence, to be sure; but he was taken, as we may say, in battle; and, in battle, he killed the man for whose murder he will be certainly arraigned, if proceedings are not quashed in the beginning. As a commissioned officer of the crown, however"——
"And what if he be not a commissioned officer," said the refugee, with a low voice.
"Why then," replied Affidavy, "I have to say, gentlemen of the jury——Pshaw! that is,—hemp seed and a white shirt—you understand me? But with the commission—we will produce that, and then"——
"You shall have it," said the refugee; but added,—"It will do no good. A court civil or a court martial,—how should a Gilbert look for mercy from either? What turn would the king's commission serve me, if a prisoner? Look you, Affidavy, there are better ways of ending the matter. An hundred guineas are clinking in the bag these came from: it is but the opening of a jail-door to earn it."
"Ay! are you there, Truepenny?—Sir, I'm a lawyer and a gentleman; and as to aiding and abetting in any jail-breaking—zounds, sir! for what do you take me?"
"For a wiser man than you would have your neighbours believe,—for a man too wise to boggle long at a choice betwixt a hundred guineas held in comfort at home, and empty pockets, with hands and heels tied together, in a cave of the mountains."
"God bless our two souls," said Affidavy, "what do you mean?"
"To have your help, or take good care no one else has it," said Oran, laughing. Then, laying his hand upon the lawyer's arm, he added, with the same untimely accompaniment to accents full of sternness, "Look ye, Affidavy, you have heard too much for your own comfort, unless you are ready to hear all. You are a friend, or—a prisoner."