Another Man's Shoes

by Victor Bridges

"He was in the next room, sir, asleep. They'd put him in there while I was away. I think he was too drunk to worry much about anything."

"He seems to have been of a philosophic nature all through," said the magistrate. "Go on."

"Well, sir, it must have been just about nine o'clock when the man on the bed gave a sudden sort of a groan and opened his eyes. The doctor was at his side quick, sir. He had some medicine all ready in a glass, and he put his arm round him and lifted him up in bed, and made him swallow it. It seemed to do him good almost at once, sir, for he laid back and looked round quite quiet and sensible like. 'Who are you?' he asks. The doctor bends down and wipes his forehead for him.

"'I'm a doctor,' he says, 'and this is Father Merrill, a priest. You wanted to see a priest, you know.'

"'Yes, yes,' says the man and then a cunning, frightened sort of look comes into his eyes.

"The Father comes up to the bed and speaks to him very gentle and kind. He tells him that he is dying, and asks him if there isn't something he wants to confess. The man reaches up to him, sir, and clutches hold of his cloak. 'I am dying, I am dying,' he says, 'are you sure?' Father Merrill bows his head, and the chap drops back again on the bed. He lies there for a minute, sir, without speaking, just breathing hard and picking at the clothes. Then Father Merrill bends over him and takes both his hands. 'Prado is dead,' he says, very distinct, 'and an innocent man has been arrested for killing him.' That seemed, somehow, to do the business, sir. The man on the bed gives a kind of gasp and pulls himself up on the pillow. 'No, no,' he whispers. 'I killed him.' Then he takes a long breath. 'Listen,' he says, 'I will tell you.' We all three came round the bed, sir, and the doctor pulls out a pocket-book and a pencil and begins to write down what the man was saying. It was hard to follow, sir, for he spoke English half-foreign like, and his voice was never better than a whisper. The doctor's got what he said wrote down—he'll show it you, sir—but in a manner of speaking it was just what I thought. He was one of the San Luca lot—Da Costa his name was, and he'd been watching the house in Park Lane. When I drove down in the taxi he'd followed me, and he'd laid low outside till I cleared off. Then he'd sneaked in somehow without being seen, sir, and knocked at the door of the master's room. I suppose Mr. Northcote must have thought it was me come back, for he unlocked it, sir, and this Da Costa had got inside and stabbed him before he could so much as call out. But Mr. Northcote, sir, as I said, he wasn't the sort of gentleman to go under easy. He'd dropped to the floor, sir; but it seems he was partly shamming, for when Da Costa jumped on him to finish him, he whipped out a knife and stabbed him in the side. How long they fought Da Costa didn't know, but by the time he'd finished the master he was about done in himself. He'd crawled away, sir, hardly knowing what he was up to, and got down somewhere by the river. Here he'd run across the man whose house he was in now. He told him he'd been stabbed in a street row, and wanted some place where he could lie up. The man asked him if he had any money, and when Da Costa showed him a pound he took him to Shadwell, and there he'd been ever since. That was his whole story, sir, as he told it to us. You'll find it all written down proper in the doctor's book, with Da Costa's name signed at the end. He was just able to do that, sir, before he went off queer again."

"And you have come straight to the court from Shadwell?" asked the magistrate, as Milford stopped to finish the glass of water.

"Yes, sir. The doctor sent out and got a nurse to look after Da Costa, and then we came right up in a cab."

There was a short silence while the magistrate made one or two notes. When he had finished, he adjusted his glasses and looked up.

"Well, I congratulate you on the way you have given your evidence, Mr. Milford," he said slowly. "You appear, too, to have acted with courage and discretion all through these amazing experiences. I have no doubt the counsel for the police will want to ask you a few questions before we take the evidence of Dr. Robbins and Father Merrill; and meanwhile,"—here he turned to Mr. Horsfall,—"perhaps you, sir, will be good enough to examine these papers."