‘Well,’ I answered shortly, ‘what do you want of me?’
‘Mr Browle wishes you to go up to the Central Criminal at once, if you please, Mr Holdrey,’ returned the man. ‘You know Sam Braceby, I believe—Long-necked Sam, they call him—he is in trouble, and wants you as a witness.’
Know Long-necked Sam! I should think I did! There were few old officers in the force who did not know him.
‘What is he in trouble about? and what does he want me for?’ I naturally asked. ‘I have heard nothing of this.’
‘No. The governor did not know that you could say anything until this morning,’ replied the clerk. ‘Sam is up for burglary. He has been in trouble so often, that a very little will send him for life.’
He went on to say that Sam declared that I, and no one else, could save him; and so, almost before I had made up my mind on the subject, I found I had pulled on my coat and was in a ’bus with the clerk.
He apologised for not calling a cab by saying that it ‘was dead low water with Sam,’ and the governor did not care about laying out more money than could be helped. This, however, did not explain why I was wanted; and the inside of a ’bus not being a good place for talking secrets, we said little more until we got down at the corner of the Old Bailey, and then there was too much hurry to think of talking.
Sam’s trial had begun; the facts were so simple that it was not likely to last long. A robbery had been committed, somewhat early in the night—eleven or twelve o’clock—at a house in Camberwell. Two of the residents in the next house saw a man leap from a back window into the garden, and gave the alarm. This man the witnesses believed to be Sam. They had even described the burglar as having a remarkably long neck; and the accused being notoriously a bad character, the event was likely to be against him. Mr Browle hurried to me the moment I entered the court—leaving the then witness to go without cross-examination—and thanked me for coming. ‘We hardly hoped it, you know,’ continued the legal gentleman, ‘as you had not been subpœnaed, and I know you do not think much of Braceby. But the man is innocent this time; he is, indeed, Mr Holdrey.’
I naturally asked about my expenses and so forth—I did this as a matter of business—before I entered on what I was expected to prove.
‘Don’t hesitate over that, there’s a good fellow,’ said Browle. ‘Sam will pay you; you know he will, for he is honest enough in private life, even if he is not so professionally. I don’t think you are the man to sacrifice a poor wretch for the sake of your fees; but if you insist—why, I will guarantee them myself, and it is no business of mine to do that, as you know.’