“What is this?—who is this? Turn this man out. Clear the office,” cried Mr. Fang.
“I will speak,” cried the man; “I will not be turned out,—I saw it all. I keep the book-stall. I demand to be sworn. I will not be put down. Mr. Fang, you must hear me. You dare not refuse, sir.”
The man was right. His manner was bold and determined, and the matter was growing rather too serious to be hushed up.
“Swear the fellow,” growled Fang with a very ill grace. “Now, man, what have you got to say?”
“This,” said the man: “I saw three boys—two others and the prisoner here—loitering on the opposite side of the way, when this gentleman was reading. The robbery was committed by another boy. I saw it done, and I saw that this boy was perfectly amazed and stupified by it.” Having by this time recovered a little breath, the worthy book-stall keeper proceeded to relate in a more coherent manner the exact circumstances of the robbery.
“Why didn’t you come here before?” said Fang after a pause.
“I hadn’t a soul to mind the shop,” replied the man; “everybody that could have helped me had joined in the pursuit. I could get nobody till five minutes ago, and I’ve run here all the way.”
“The prosecutor was reading, was he?” inquired Fang, after another pause.
“Yes,” replied the man, “the very book he has in his hand.”