“Your daughter, Sarah Eliza, is at Rawdon’s Select Encampment, where the stuff you sell is turned out.  She can give some fine evidence.  The Peskiwanchow crowd, the man that pretends to be called Jones, and the rest of them, were picked up by you in a waggon, I know, last night.  The coal oil and fire marks are on your hands still, and this pretty rag came out of your side pocket.  What is more, I don’t need to ask the Squire here to commit you.  I’ve got a warrant already, on the evidence of Henry and Stokes and Steadman.  I’ll serve that warrant on you 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.