JIM: Up Bloodysyke: and they were following? I’d best cut over Gallows Rigg. My God, The hunt’s afoot ... But it may be a trap-- And you ... And you ... BELL: Nay: but I’m no ratcatcher. You’d best turn tail, before the terriers sight you. (_As JIM bolts past her and through the open door_) Rats! Rats! Good dog! ... And now we’re rid of vermin. JUDITH: Oh, Bell, what has he done? What has he done? BELL: How should I ken? JUDITH: And yet you said ... BELL: I said? You’ve surely not forgotten Bell Haggard’s tongue, After the taste you had of it the last time? JUDITH: What did you hear? BELL: A drunken blether-breeks In a bar at Bellingham: and I recognized Peter’s own brother, too; and guessed ’twas Jim: And when they gossiped of Krindlesyke ... Oh, I ken Ladies don’t listen: but not being a lady Whiles has advantages: and when he left His crony sprawling, splurging in the gutter, I followed him, full-pelt, hot on his heel, Guessing the hanniel was up to little good. But he got here before me: so I waited Outside, until I heard him blustering; And judged it time to choke his cracking-croose. I couldn’t have that wastrel making mischief In Michael’s house: I didn’t quit Krindlesyke That it might be turned into a tinker’s dosshouse, Hotching with maggots like a reesty gowdy, For any hammy, halfnabs, and hang-gallows To stretch his lousy carcase in at ease, After I’d slutted to keep it respectable For fifteen-year. JUDITH: But what do you think he’s done-- Not murder? BELL: Murder? Nay: it takes a man To murder. JUDITH: Ay ... But when you spoke of hanging, He turned like death: and when he threatened you, I saw blue-murder in his eyes. BELL: At most, ’Twould be manslaughter with the likes of him. I’ve some respect for murderers: they, at least, Take things into their own hands, and don’t wait On lucky chances, like the rest of us-- Murderers and suicides ... JUDITH: But Jim? BELL: I’d back Cain against Abel, ay, and hairy Esau Against that smooth sneak Jacob. Jim? He’s likely Done in some doxy in a drunken sleep: ’Twould be about his measure. JUDITH: Jim--O Jim! BELL: Nay: he’ll not dangle in a hempen noose. JUDITH: And yet you saw his body ... BELL: Dead men’s knuckles! You didn’t swallow that gammon? Why should I Be sleeping under Winter’s Stob? But Jim-- I doubt if he’d the guts to stick a porker: You needn’t fear for him. But I must go. JUDITH: Go? You’ll not go without a sup of tea, After you’ve traiked so far? Michael and Ruth ...