“Your price is a high one,” said Alan dryly, “how do I know what you have to tell me is worth a pound, or a quid as you call it.”
“Oh I ain’t got nothink t’ tell,” said Jotty readily, “but I thought es y’d help a pore cove es wants t’ be respectable.”
“I shall help you at a price,” said Fuller, who did all the talking while Dick smoked in silence and kept his ears and eyes open. Latimer had not a very good opinion of the witness, as he thought him cunning, and likely to tell lies unless he was driven into a corner, and perhaps for that very reason. “Do you know this?” asked Alan, pushing the sketch under Jotty’s shrewd blue eyes. Dick frowned at the action, as he deemed it wise that Alan should have kept the fact of the peacock being in Sorley’s possession to himself, in the meantime at all events.
“Yessir,” said Jotty quickly, “it’s a picter of him es was kind t’ me’s goldbird es he showed me times an’ agin.”
“Well then,” said Alan, and Dick’s frown relaxed as he spoke, “this picture, as you call it was taken long ago, before Mr. Grison got the peacock. Was the bird like that sketch, or is there any change.”
“Nosir. It wos just like that here. Wiff a big tail and shiny things on it. Them spots is th’ shiny things ain’t they, sir?”
Alan nodded, while Dick grinned at this compliment to his friend’s artistic abilities. “When did you see the peacock last?”
“On the very night es he es wos kind t’ me wos murdered.”
“Can you swear to that?” asked Alan with secret dismay, for this reply seemed to prove that Sorley was guilty.
“Yessir. I kin swear hard I kin,” said Jotty with a frank smile.