“Your worship, I thought it but right to call upon you to say that I have seen—”
Here he looked about him mysteriously, to assure himself that they were alone.
“What have you seen, sir?” cried the other.
“The murderer of Mr. Vaughan.”
The shoemaker, as he said this, leaned forward in a confident manner, and then threw his head back with a jerk, to see what effect it had upon the magistrate, who, to his surprise, merely said, “Have you?” and did not seem at all put out of the way by such an astounding piece of information.
“I—I have spoken to him, sir—your worship, I mean.”
“Then, why didn’t you say so at once? You have got him outside, I suppose?”
“Got him outside, your worship?”
“Of course.”
“Why—why—I—haven’t exactly got him at all.”