Part 20 (1/2)

BELL: How should I know?

You should ken best who's after you, and what You're wanted for? They might be friends of yours, For all I ken: though I've never taken, myself, To the little boy-blues. But, carties, I'd have fancied 'Twould make your lugs burn--such a gillaber about you.

They talked.

JIM: Who talked?

BELL: Your friends.

JIM: Friends? I've no friends.

BELL: Well: they were none of mine. Last night I slept 'Neath Winter's Stob ...

JIM: What's that to do with me?

BELL: I slept till midnight, when a clank of chains Awakened me: and, looking up, I saw A body on the gibbet ...

JIM: A body, woman?

No man's hung there this hundred-year.

BELL: I saw A tattered corpse against the hagging moon, Above me black.

JIM: You didn't see the face?

BELL: I saw its face--before it disappeared, And left the gibbet bare.

JIM: You kenned the face?

BELL: I kenned the face.

JIM: Whose face? ...

BELL: Best not to ask.

JIM: O Christ!

BELL: But we were talking of your friends: Quite anxious about you, they seemed.

JIM (_limping towards BELL HAGGARD with lifted arm_): You cadger-quean!

You've set them on. I'll crack you over the cruntle-- You rummel-dusty ... You muckhut ... You windyhas.h.!.+

I'll slit your weazen for you: I'll break your jaw-- I'll stop your gob, if I've to do you in!

You'll not sleep under Winter's Stob to-night.

BELL (_regarding him, unmoved_): As well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb?

JIM (_stopping short_): Hanged?

BELL: To be hanged by the neck till you are dead.

That bleaches you? But you'll look whiter yet, When you lie cold and stiffening, my pretty bleater.

JIM (_shrinking back_): You witch ... You witch! You've got the evil eye.

Don't look at me like that ... Come, let me go!