“And never out of it this twenty years?”
“Not a day, sorr. If I have may I be——”
“Oh, quite so. Then may I ask how long it is since you worked for Mr. Whitwam?”
After much evasion it appeared that it was ten years since the witness had worked for Mr. Whitwam or anyone else.
“Made your fortune at thirty, you lucky man, and retired from business, is that it?”
His clothes answered for him.
“Then may I ask how you’ve lived since you gave up working?”
“Hadn’t he a license to hawk, sure?”
“A pedlar, eh? In other words, a licensed mendicant. Let me see your license.”
After much fumbling in the inner creases of the rag that served him as a vest, the witness produced a soiled, tattered document that Beaumont handled gingerly.