“What’s off? What do you mean?”
“What I mean is you don’t catch me givin’ hevidence in this ’ere case. You treated me like a gent, and I thought I’d let you know. But to-morrow I shan’t be there. You gotter understand that.”
“Do you mean you won’t help to clear Mr. Brooklyn? Why, what’s the matter?”
“Well, mister, I may not be what I oughter be—leastways, some folks says I ain’t. But I got views o’ my own as to what’s right, same as others. And I’ve found out a thing or two about this Mr. Brooklyn of yours. He can swing, s’far as I’m concerned.”
“My good fellow, the man’s innocent of this crime, whatever you may know about him. You must say what you know.”
“Not so much ‘good fellow,’ and there’s no ‘must’ about it, mister. That chap deserves hangin’ for things he’s done, and I don’t care if they hangs ’im on the right charge or the wrong ’un. I know a girl what . . .”
“I don’t mind telling you that I don’t like Mr. Brooklyn any better than you do. But I want to see him cleared. He didn’t commit these murders, I know that.”
“Come, come, mister, why not let ’im hang? What’s it matter to you, anyway? He’d be a good riddance, from what I ’ear of ’im.”
“But you can’t see a man condemned when you know he’s innocent.”
“Why not, mister? I says, Why not? It’s not as if you had any personal interest in the fellow, so to speak.”