now,
and have you off to the county gaol, where Dr. Stapfer is bound to cut
off your leg, if you don't own up quick, for I have no time to lose."

"Daw yaw thenk as Stapper ull ambitate ma laig?"

"I'm sure of it. He always does; he has a perfect mania for amputation.
You know Driver?"

"Yaas."

"Who cut off his leg for a little bruise?"

"T'wer Stapper."

"And who cut of Sear's arm at the shoulder for a trifle of a rusty
nail?"

"Stapper taw. O, aw zay, Mezder Nahsh, dawn't zend us ta naw Stappers."

"But I will, I must, if you don't confess immediately all that the
Squire and I want to know. Turn Queen's evidence, and make a clean
breast of it. You can't save Rawdon and his gang; we have them tight.
But confess, and I'll get you out on bail, and send you home to your
wife to be nursed; and, when the trials come, I'll get you off your
liquor charge with a fine. Refuse to, and you go straight to Stapfer's
to lose your leg, and then to the gallows."

"Aw dawn't moind chancin' t'gallas, but ma laig! Wat daw yaw wahn't ta
knaw?"

At once all the people, Ben included, were ordered out of the hospital,
and Coristine, much to his disgust, sent for. His hands were useless
for writing, but, as he had a good memory, he could help in the
examination. So Mr. Errol was called in to act as clerk, Mr. Perrowne
refusing to do so, on the ground that all confessions made in the
presence of a clergyman are sacred. Little by little the hardened old
sinner revealed Rawdon's business, its centre and methods, his
accomplices and victims. Then the whole story of the plot which
culminated in the night attack was drawn from him, appearing blacker and
more diabolical at every new revelation of villainy. It appeared that
the Grinstun man had with him in the attack, which he conducted
personally, his own six men from the so called Encampment, together with
the idiot boy, and two lots of teamsters or distributors, the five from
Peskiwanchow brought by Newcombe, and four from another quarter. He had
thus sixteen ruffians in his force, besides himself and the boy.

"Whose boy is that?" asked the detective, eagerly. He had been looking
closely at the lad more than once and listening to his voice.

"Ah beeslong ta Rowdon."

"Who is his mother?" asked Nash, with a strange light in his eye.

"Her's cawd Tilder."

"Is she Rawdon's wife? Speak, man!"

"Naw, nawt az aw niver heerd."

"What was her name before he--brought her there?"