As the policeman slowly rendered this into writing, most eyes sought Bramberger, who, feeling that he was the object of an attention perhaps not too favourable, remarked:
"Ah, yes. I believe I'm wrong, after all. It was twelve o'clock I meant—not nine."
"And what about this young gent?" queried the constable quickly. "Who is he, anyway? Was he here with Pavely?"
"He might have gone out with him, I didn't take particular notice of him," the German replied.
"But who is he?"
"Oh, you know him well enough. He's often in Maldon. It's young Mr. Freeman, who's learning estate work with Mr. Harris, near Southminster. He does drop in here now and again."
"Yes, I know him. A fellow-countryman of yours, ain't he?"
"No; he's English. I'd know a German well enough."
"Well, I've heard him speak. Mr. Jones, the schoolmaster, told me once he thought he spoke with a German accent," replied the officer.
"So he do, Sergeant," spoke up a sailorman, "now you mention it. I'm often in Hamburg, an' I know the German accent."