Ye see he thought he was in hell, an' it
was a reasomble thing in 'im too; an' I telled 'im that I'd got a
settlement in Abram's bosom, an' I axed 'im over to spend the day. I
took 'im out of the poor-house an' carried 'im to Number Nine, an' I
cured 'im. He's lived there ever sence, helped me build my hotel, an' I
come down with 'im, to 'tend this Court, an' we brung his little boy
along too, an' the little feller is here, an' knows him better nor I
do."
"And you declare, under oath, that the Paul Benedict whom you knew in
Sevenoaks, and at Number Nine--before his insanity--the Paul Benedict
who was in the poor-house at Sevenoaks and notoriously escaped from that
institution--escaped by your help, has lived with you ever since, and
has appeared here in Court this morning," said Mr. Balfour.
"He's the same feller, an' no mistake, if so be he hain't slipped his
skin," said Jim, "an' no triflin'. I make my Happy David on't."
"Did Mr. Belcher ever send into the woods to find him?'"
"Yis," said Jim, laughing, "but I choked 'em off."
"How did you choke them off?"
"I telled 'em both I'd lick 'em if they ever blowed. They didn't want to
blow any, to speak on, but Mike Conlin come in with a hundred dollars of
Belcher's money in his jacket, an' helped me nuss my man for a week; an'
I got a Happy David out o' Sam Yates, an' ther's the dockyment;" and Jim
drew from his pocket the instrument with which the reader is already
familiar.
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