'I will swear to it in any court--it was the hand of that brute that struck me down,' he was reported to have said; and when he was thought to be sinking, it was known that he had made an ante-mortem statement in that sense.

It was a cheerful day for the Squirradical when Holtum was restored to his brewery.
'It's much worse than that,' said Gideon; 'a combination of circumstances really providentially unjust--a--in fact, a syndicate of murderers seem to have perceived my latent ability to rid them of the traces of their crime.

It's a legal study after all, you see!' And with these words, Gideon, for the second time that day, began to describe the adventures of the Broadwood Grand.
'I must write to The Times,' cried Mr Bloomfield.
'Do you want to get me disbarred ?' asked Gideon.
'Disbarred! Come, it can't be as bad as that,' said his uncle.

'It's a good, honest, Liberal Government that's in, and they would certainly move at my request.

Thank God, the days of Tory jobbery are at an end.' 'It wouldn't do, Uncle Ned,' said Gideon.
'But you're not mad enough,' cried Mr Bloomfield, 'to persist in trying to dispose of it yourself ?' 'There is no other path open to me,' said Gideon.
'It's not common sense, and I will not hear of it,' cried Mr Bloomfield.
'I command you, positively, Gid, to desist from this criminal interference.' 'Very well, then, I hand it over to you,' said Gideon, 'and you can do what you like with the dead body.' 'God forbid!' ejaculated the president of the Radical Club, 'I'll have nothing to do with it.' 'Then you must allow me to do the best I can,' returned his nephew.
'Believe me, I have a distinct talent for this sort of difficulty.' 'We might forward it to that pest-house, the Conservative Club,' observed Mr Bloomfield.