“What about it?”
“We hearn he’s dead, and we wanten to tell your worship what we know’d.”
“What’s that?”
“About the murder, sir,” said Shalcross.
“Well, did you know anything about the murder?”
“Yes, your worship, we seed it.”
“What! you saw it? You are rather late with your information, then, I must say. Don’t you know that your concealing it thus all this time makes you accessories?”
“Makes what?” said Shalcross, looking at his wife, as if she could help him.
“Makes you guilty, too, Shalcross.”
“God forbid, sir! but what could we do? Scammel swore to murder us if we said a syllable to any living soul; and he took us off wi’ him.”