"Yes," said the magistrate, "yes?"
"One of them, sir, was telling the other about a lodger who was ill in his house, and who wanted to see a priest. The other man said something about Father Merrill, and the first man said, in a kind of queer way, 'Well, ye see he was stabbed in the street, and I don't want no fuss so long as he can pay the rent.' When I heard that, sir, I pretty near jumped out of my seat, for something told me it was the man I was looking for. I kept quiet, though, to try and hear some more; but after that they spoke so low I couldn't catch what they were saying. I sat on till they'd done their drink and got up to go, then I slipped out after them. They separated on the pavement, and my man—the one who'd spoken first—turned off down towards the river. He was pretty well gone in liqueur, sir, and it was easy enough to follow him. He went all the way along to Shadwell, and turned in at a tumble-down, one-storey sort of place that looked as if it was part of an old warehouse alongside."
"What time was it then?"
"It must have been pretty near half-past ten, sir. Anyhow, it was just striking eleven when I reached the church at the corner of East Street."
"You came straight back, then?"
"Yes, sir. I thought it would be no use trying to get into the house on my own, even if the man was there. I wanted some one to help me—some one, too, who'd be the right sort of witness if there was any trouble. It seemed as like as not that I was the only person who rightly knew how things lay; and now Mr. Burton had been arrested, it wouldn't do for me to make any mistake. Well, sir, I turned it all over in my mind, and I decided at last that I couldn't do any better than go to this Father Merrill that the man had spoken about in the Dockyard Arms. You see, I'd heard others speak of him too, sir, in the lodging-house at Smith Street."
"Everybody in the East End knows Father Merrill, I believe," interrupted the magistrate.
"I should say they did, sir, pretty near. Anyhow, even at that hour, 'twas easy enough finding out where the reverend gentleman lived. I went to his rooms, and late as it was,—getting on for midnight, to be correct,—he came down and opened the door himself. I'd fetched him out of bed, but he didn't seem to mind. He took me into his sitting-room,—I'd said 'twas a matter of life and death, sir,—and there I told him the whole story straight through from beginning to end. Of course, I'd got the master's letter to Mr. Horsfall, and some old letters of my own in my pocket to show him; but even so, I was half afraid he wouldn't believe what I was telling him. But he did, sir. He just looked at me quiet, and asked me one or two questions, and he seemed to know I was speaking the truth. 'You stop here,' he said. 'I'll go and put on some things and come with you at once.' I waited for him, sir, maybe a matter of ten minutes, and then we set off together. We hadn't got half-way down the street before he stopped and knocked at one of the houses. 'We'll take Dr. Robbins with us,' he said to me. 'He's a big man, and he's used to murderers.'"
A sudden laugh ran round the strained court, in which the magistrate, Father Merrill, and the doctor himself joined.
"Stepney seems to be a most bracing neighbourhood," observed the first. "Go on, Mr. Milford."