"Yes," replied Squeers, "that's all true."
"Well, then," said Ralph, "what risk do you run? Who swears to a lie but Snawley—a man whom I have paid much less than I have you?"
"He certainly did it cheap, did Snawley," observed Squeers.
"He did it cheap!" retorted Ralph, testily, "yes, and he did it well, and carries it off with a hypocritical face and a sanctified air, but you—risk! What do you mean by risk? The certificates are all genuine, Snawley had another son, he has been married twice, his first wife is dead, none but her ghost could tell that she didn't write that letter, none but Snawley himself can tell that this is not his son and that his son is food for worms. The only perjury is Snawley's, and I fancy he is pretty well used to it. Where's your risk?"
"Why, you know," said Squeers, fidgeting in his chair, "if you come to that, I might say where's yours?"
"You might say where's mine!" returned Ralph; "you may say where's mine. I don't appear in the business—neither do you. All Snawley's interest is to stick well to the story he has told, and all his risk is to depart from it in the least. Talk of your risk in the conspiracy!"
"I say," remonstrated Squeers, looking uneasily round; "don't call it that—just as a favour, don't."
"Call it what you like," said Ralph, irritably, "but attend to me. This tale was originally fabricated as a means of deep annoyance against one who hurt your trade and half cudgelled you to death, and to enable you to obtain repossession of a half-dead drudge, whom you wished to regain, because while you wreaked your vengeance on him for his share in the business, you knew that the knowledge that he was again in your power would be the best punishment you could inflict upon your enemy. Is that so, Mr. Squeers?"
"Why, sir," returned Squeers, almost overpowered by the determination which Ralph displayed to make everything tell against him, and by his stern unyielding manner, "in a measure it was."
"What does that mean?" said Ralph, quietly.
"Why, in a measure, means," returned Squeers, "as it may be so; that it wasn't all on my account, because you had some old grudge to satisfy, too."
"If I had not had," said Ralph, in no way abashed by the reminder "do you think I should have helped you?"
"Why no, I don't suppose you would," Squeers replied. "I only wanted that point to be all square and straight between us."
"How can it ever be otherwise?" retorted Ralph. "Except that account is against me, for I spend money to gratify my hatred, and you pocket it, and gratify yours at the same time. You are at least as avaricious as you are revengeful—so am I. Which is best off? You, who win money and revenge at the same time and by the same process, and who are at all events sure of money, if not of revenge; or I, who am only sure of spending money in any case, and can but win bare revenge at last?"
