"Why, we've etten----," began Tom, then grew red as a boiled lobster; "aw mean, what hares are you talking about?" "Yes, you was saying, 'you've etten'; pray go on. What have you etten?" "Aw don't know what you're talkin' about." "Oh! yes you do, my good man, quite well. I'm talking about the two hares your precious father and you had with you that night, and which you intended to place in the prisoner's pocket after you had stunned him. I can imagine your surprise when you found he actually had two of his own procuring. Come now, don't keep us in suspense. You say you've etten 'em,' and I can quite believe it. Did they make good eating?" But Tom was past answering now. He glared dumbly about the Court, and on every face there he read but one tale, the tale the convicted liar reads. "I'm off out o' this," he said, and made to leave the box. "It's come to something when a game-keeper cannot be backed up i' th' discharge o' his duty." "Gently, gently, Mr. Bradbury," said our attorney pleasantly, as one soothes a fretful child. "Just one or two questions more, and then perhaps we shall have the pleasure of seeing your respected and venerable father. Do you know Pots and Pans?" "Pots and Pans?" interjaculated the Chairman. "Oh, I remember--the name of the Druid remains above Bill's o' Jacks." "The same, your Worship." "In course aw know th' spot," answered Tom briskly. Surely there could be no harm in confessing to a knowledge of that widely known clump of boulders though truth to say, Tom began to feel that no matter how innocent the question might seem it might lead, the deuce knew whither. "What about Pots an' Pans?" "Well I think your father, your venerable and respected father, and you were at Pots and Pans about noon of the Friday before Huddersfield Fair?" "Weel, what if we were? Hannot we a reight?" "Yes, yes, a perfect right. And I think you had a little conversation about the prisoner there?" I shall never forget the look of amazed dread with which Tom o' Bill's regarded his tormentor. Was the man more than human? he seemed to ask himself. Had he some familiar demon that whispered to him damning secrets? Then a light burst upon him. "Aw see how it is, th' owd 'un's split. My father, mi own feyther's turned agen me," he exclaimed, and tottered out of the box, Mr. Blackburn making no sign to stop him. The magistrates put their heads together. "We don't understand all this, Mr. Blackburn," said the Chairman. "Perhaps you can explain." "All in good time, your Worships. Or perhaps my friend's further witnesses will enlighten us." "Call William Bradbury," said Mr. Alison, but it was clear he was as much perplexed as the magistrates at the turn of events. "Hanged if I know what You're about with your hares' teeth and your Pots and Pans," I heard him mutter to our attorney. "Better wait and see," suggested that gentleman blandly.