He would often interrupt Judas' stories about wicked people and their conduct with short practical remarks: "You must prove that.

Did you hear it yourself?
Was there any one present besides yourself?
What was his name ?" At this Judas would get angry, and shrilly cry out, that he had seen and heard everything himself; but the obstinate Thomas would go on cross-examining quietly and persistently, until Judas confessed that he had lied, or until he invented some new and more probable lie, which provided the others for some time with food for thought.

But when Thomas discovered a discrepancy, he would immediately come and calmly expose the liar.
Usually Judas excited in him a strong curiosity, which brought about between them a sort of friendship, full of wrangling, jeering, and invective on the one side, and of quiet insistence on the other.
Sometimes Judas felt an unbearable aversion to his strange friend, and, transfixing him with a sharp glance, would say irritably, and almost with entreaty-- "What more do you want?
I have told you all." "I want you to prove how it is possible that a he-goat should be your father," Thomas would reply with calm insistency, and wait for an answer.
It chanced once, that after such a question, Judas suddenly stopped speaking and gazed at him with surprise from head to foot.

What he saw was a tall, upright figure, a grey face, honest eyes of transparent blue, two fat folds beginning at the nose and losing themselves in a stiff, evenly-trimmed beard.

He said with conviction: "What a stupid you are, Thomas! What do you dream about--a tree, a wall, or a donkey ?" Thomas was in some way strangely perturbed, and made no reply.