This statement caused general laughter.
“How very odd, doctor; but you cannot gainsay that Warner was certainly a detective on that occasion, and a very expert one too. Ha! ha!”
“I think, squire,” said the doctor, “if the poacher who shot at Mr Falcon could be produced he would throw a different complexion on the affair.”
“He stands in your worship’s presence!” said Warner.
“Indeed! Who is he?” said his worship.
“Come forward, Trigger,” cried Warner, with a covert smile.
“I am no poacher, your worship,” replied Tom, as he stood forward, “though I confess to having shot at, and having hit, a man in the Essex marshes who wilfully fired the gas in my employer’s balloon. And I assert that that man was Mr Falcon, who at the time was disguised with spectacles, false beard, sandy wig and reversible coat.”
“How do you know, Trigger, that he was Mr Falcon?” asked his worship.
“He was the same person who had annoyed my master and Miss Chain at the Crystal Palace, and the same who did not attempt to rescue the lady from the lake, but left that honour for my guv’nor to perform.”
“Any further evidence?” asked the magistrate.