“He was, and I ketched him on the hop.”
“You don’t say so.”
“But I do. He owned what he was up there for, poor chap, for the guv’nor was very rough on him at last. I took him for a boy after our fruit.”
“Are you talking about last night, when your Master died?” said Wimble, breathlessly.
“Yes, of course.”
“Where was he then?”
“Down our garden, on the sly.”
Wimble’s face was a study.
“It was like this. He didn’t know there was company, and he was trying to get a word with Miss Claude; but, of course, she couldn’t get to him, because there was Mr Glider and the doctor there.”
“Well, you do surprise me, Mr Brime.”