"Why didn't you stay at Baxter's Rents?"
"The house was full, sir; there wasn't a bed to be had, and I didn't fancy sitting up the rest of the night. I hadn't been very well for a matter of a couple of days."
"Where did you sleep?"
"There was a lodging-house just round the corner, sir,—Number 10 Smith Street it was,—and I got a room there. I asked the landlord to give me a knock-up in the morning, for I was that tired I knew I'd sleep on late if he didn't. Well, sir, he came to me at seven o'clock, and the very first thing he said to me was that there'd been a murder in the night at Baxter's Rents. 'Done in a cove at number three,' he says. 'The police are round there now.' When I heard that, sir, my heart seemed to go all queer like. I felt certain it was the master, sir; and it come to me all of a sudden that perhaps one of them foreigners had followed me down and waited outside till I'd left him. I got up and dressed, and then I went round to the house. There was a big crowd outside, all pushing and shoving to get a look, and an inspector standing on the doorstep."
He paused for a moment, as if to collect his thoughts.
"Did you go in?" inquired the magistrate.
"No, sir. As soon as I heard the people talking, I knew it was Mr. Northcote. Some of them had seen the body before the police came."
"But why didn't you go and tell your story to the inspector?"
Milford made a kind of protesting gesture with his hands. "How could I go to the police, sir, with a story like that? They'd have thought I was mad. Besides, I was that knocked over, I didn't rightly know what to do for the time. I had a sort of feeling that if they found out I'd been there the night before, they might think I'd had a hand in it."
"What did you do?" inquired the magistrate gently.