“You are head waiter at ‘The Silver Fleece Inn,’ at Battisford?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How long have you held that position?”
“Nigh upon seven year, sir.”
“Look at the prisoner. Do you know him?”
“Yes, sir. It’s Squire Dorrien.”
“When did you first see him?”
“Well, sir, I can’t exactly remember that. It was shortly after the General’s death. Lawyer Barnes, he comes to our place, and he says to my guv’nor, says he—”
“Tut-tut-tut. Not so fast, my good friend,” interrupted Mr Windgate smilingly, while a ripple of mirth ran through the public. “Never mind about Lawyer Barnes, but just tell us when you first saw Mr Dorrien?”
“Well, sir, as far as I can remember, it was soon after he was married—just about Christmas-time.”