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Having got through the speech of Mr. Phillpots, it became so dark that he could see to read no more. He therefore rushed round to the kitchen for a lantern with all the velocity at his command.

"Where on earth have you been?" exclaimed cook, as he entered.

"Busy, busy," said Judkins, as he lighted his candle.

"Are you going out again?"

"Yes, yes; don't bother me now."

"Well, but I want to speak to you."

"Can't stop; can't stop a second," he replied, and rushed from the kitchen as hastily as he had entered.

On his return to the tool-house, he adjusted his lantern, and then, with an expression of the most earnest anxiety, resumed.

He liked Thompson's evidence. He thought it very good—very good—very good indeed: but when he came to the speech of Mr. Slashinger, it threw him into an absolute state of ecstacy.

"By Job!" he exclaimed, striking his hand upon the nail-box, "that's stunning—stunning! Now then, let 'em get over that if they can."

He then proceeded; and as he read Tom's evidence—having reference to the parapet—his countenance assumed an expression of horror, and his breathing became thick and difficult. At length he exclaimed, with a start, "He's saved!" and wiped the perspiration off his brow with his sleeve, and then stared at the candle, and sat and thought of the dreadful position described.

"He's a fine fellow, though," he eventually added; "a very fine fellow, that Mr. Delolme. He's a good 'un, every inch of him. Well! Now let's see what comes next. Very good," he continued, at intervals. "He couldn't get away no how so. A thousand a year—what an enormity of money! But he deserves every penny of it, he does; I wish he had ten times as much. Very good. Now, who's next? The reverend Edward Rouse. What, our parson! Was he in it? Oh, don't I wish I'd been there? His garden wall—that was five year ago when he lost the peaches. Jones then was right after all. The ghost: yes, that's quite right. No more it never is seen except when he's here. What do you mean by that, stupid? Ain't it as clear as the nose on your face?"

This last observation referred to the cross-examination of the reverend gentleman by Mr. Phillpots, for whom Judkins had a most thorough contempt, and whom he held to be the most incredulous fool alive.

"You won't believe it now, I suppose!" he continued. "Did mortal flesh ever set eyes on such a donkey? I thought not. I knew you wouldn't believe it. I should like to have the kicking of you, you old ass."

Judkins then read the reply of Mr. Phillpots; and as he did so, his contempt for the man turned to indignation. He struck and kicked at appropriate intervals, with just as much energy as he felt that he could have done if Phillpots had been there before him; and thus he proceeded with a groaning accompaniment until he had reached the last line of the report, when he loudly exclaimed, "Two thousand pounds!" and let the paper fall.