Magistrate. Yes; the motive; the cause.
Bartley. I'd sooner not say that.
Magistrate. You had better tell me truly. Was it money?
Bartley. Not at all! What did poor Jack Smith ever have in his pockets unless it might be his hands that would be in them?
Magistrate. Any dispute about land?
Bartley [indignantly]. Not at all! He never was a grabber or grabbed from anyone!
Magistrate. You will find it better for you if you tell me at once.
Bartley. I tell you I wouldn't for the whole world wish to say what it was—it is a thing I would not like to be talking about.
Magistrate. There is no use in hiding it. It will be discovered in the end.
Bartley. Well, I suppose it will, seeing that mostly everybody knows it before. Whisper here now. I will tell no lie; where would be the use? [Puts his hand to his mouth, and Magistrate stoops.] Don't be putting the blame on the parish, for such a thing was never done in the parish before—it was done for the sake of Kitty Keary, Jack Smith's wife.