"Look here, youngster, tell me the truth and I'll give you a shilling."
"I never told a lie yet, sir," I said stoutly, "and I don't want your
shilling."
He looked at me intently for a few moments, and then held out his hand.
"Shake hands," he said.
I placed mine in his, and he squeezed it so that he hurt me, but I did
not flinch.
"I believe you, my lad. You don't look like a lying sort, and I wish
you were out of this. Now, tell me, did he make that cut on your head?"
I nodded. "What with?"
"That ruler."
"Humph! And what for?"
"Because I let you in on that day."
"Hang him!" he cried, striding up and down the office, for he had walked
straight in, "he's a bigger scoundrel than I thought him. Now, look
here, my man, there's going to be an action, or a trial, or something,
against me, and you'll be the principal witness. Now, what are you
going to do?"
"Going to do, sir?"
"Yes," he said impatiently; "you'll have to appear before the
magistrates, and you'll be asked all about my thrashing your master.
What are you going to say?"
"I shall tell them the truth, sir."
"No, you won't, my boy. You'll say what Mr Blakeford tells you to
say."
"I shall tell the truth, sir," I said stoutly.
"Look here, my lad, if you tell the truth, that's all I want; if you
don't, you'll ruin me."
"I'm sure I shall tell the truth, sir," I said, colouring up and
speaking earnestly.
"You'll tell the magistrates, then, that I snatched up the poker and
beat Mr Blakeford with that, eh?"
"No, sir, it was your walking-stick."
"Was it anything like that?" he said, holding out the one he carried.
"Yes, sir, just like it. Here are the pieces, sir," I said; and I took
them out of my desk, where I had placed them.
"You're a brave boy," he cried, rubbing his hands; "so they are. Now
look here, my boy: Mr Blakeford says I assaulted him with the poker.
Just you button those pieces of stick up in your socket--no, give them
to me; I'll take them. Now; when the day comes, and I ask you to tell
the truth about it, you speak out honestly, or, better still, go and
hide yourself and never come near the court at all. There's
half-a-crown for you. What, you won't take it! Well, just as you like.
Good-bye!"
He shook hands with me again, and nodding in a friendly way, left the
office.
He had not been, gone more than an hour when there was another knock at
the door, and on opening it, I admitted Mr Rowle, who smiled at me as
he took off his hat and smoothed his thin streaky hair across his bald
head.
"Well, young un," he said, "why, you're growing quite a man. But what's
the matter with your forehead?"