"Mr. Plumber has given a sufficient answer," said Mr. Ingledew, as the curate continued speechless. He turned to the vicar. "This is not one of those cases of remote plagiarism which abound: it is a case of clear theft, which are not so frequent. Mr. Plumber sent to this paper what was, to all intents and purposes, a copy of another man's work. He claimed it as his own. He received payment for it as if it had been his own. If he chooses, the editor of _Skittles_ can institute against him a criminal prosecution. If he does, Mr. Plumber will certainly be sentenced to a turn of imprisonment. As an example of impudent pilfering the affair is instructive. Perhaps, vicar, you would like to study it. Here are what Mr. Plumber calls his verses, and here are the verses from which his verses are stolen. As you will perceive, from a literary point of view, Mr. Plumber has merely perpetrated a new edition of another man's crime. Which is the worse, the original or the copy, is more than I can say. Here are the verses as they appeared in the peculiarly named paper of which you have, perhaps, already heard too much, and which, while it professes to be humorous, at least succeeds in being vulgar." Mr. Ingledew handed Mr. Harding what was evidently a marked copy of the paper which, no doubt, has its attractions for those who like that kind of thing. Mr. Plumber remained silent. He leant on his stick. His eyes were fixed on the floor. The vicar seemed almost afraid to glance in his direction. "And this," continued the softly speaking gentleman, who in spite of his carefully modulated tones, seemed destined to work the curate more havoc than the noisy parish mouthpiece, "is the publication in which the verses originally appeared. As you will see, it is a copy of a once-talked-of University magazine which is long since dead and done for. Possibly Mr. Plumber relied upon that fact to shield him from exposure." The vicar received the second paper with an air of what was unmistakably amazement. He stared at it as if in doubt that he was not being tricked by his eyes, or his spectacles, or something. "What--what's this?" he said. Mr. Ingledew explained, "It is a copy of _Cam-Isis_; a magazine which was edited and written by a body of Camford undergraduates some forty years ago." The more the vicar stared at the paper, the more his amazement seemed to grow. He was beginning to turn quite red. "Good gracious!" he exclaimed. "The original of Mr. Plumber's verses you will find on the page which I have marked. They are quite equal to their title, 'The Lass and the Lout.'" The Vicar's hand which held the paper dropped to his side. He looked up at the ceiling seemingly in a state of mind approaching stupefaction. As if unaware, words came from his lips. "It's a judgment." Mr. Ingledew rubbed his chin. He seemed to be pleased.