“Look ’ere, mister,” he said, “it’s off.” “What’s off? What do you mean?” “What I mean is you don’t catch me givin’ hevidence in this ’ere case. You treated me like a gent, and I thought I’d let you know. But to-morrow I shan’t be there. You gotter understand that.” “Do you mean you won’t help to clear Mr. Brooklyn? Why, what’s the matter?” “Well, mister, I may not be what I oughter be—leastways, some folks says I ain’t. But I got views o’ my own as to what’s right, same as others. And I’ve found out a thing or two about this Mr. Brooklyn of yours. He can swing, s’far as I’m concerned.” “My good fellow, the man’s innocent of this crime, whatever you may know about him. You must say what you know.” “Not so much ‘good fellow,’ and there’s no ‘must’ about it, mister. That chap deserves hangin’ for things he’s done, and I don’t care if they hangs ’im on the right charge or the wrong ’un. I know a girl what . . .” “I don’t mind telling you that I don’t like Mr. Brooklyn any better than you do. But I want to see him cleared. He didn’t commit these murders, I know that.” “Come, come, mister, why not let ’im hang? What’s it matter to you, anyway? He’d be a good riddance, from what I ’ear of ’im.” “But you can’t see a man condemned when you know he’s innocent.” “Why not, mister? I says, Why not? It’s not as if you had any personal interest in the fellow, so to speak.” “But I have. He’s the stepfather of the girl I’m engaged to marry. She would never get over it if he were convicted.” The pickpocket’s manner changed from sullenness to interest. “Eh, what’s that you say?” he said. “Nah, if you’d told me that at onct, I’m not one to stand between a man and his girl.” “You’ll come, won’t you?” The man hesitated. “I don’t say as I won’t,” he said. “But, if I do come, ’twon’t be for any love of your Mr. Brooklyn. I’d see ’im hanged, and glad too, along of what I know.” “I don’t care why you come, as long as you do come.” “Well, mister, I’ll come. If yer want to know why, it’s because I’ve took a bit of a fancy to yer. But I’ll ’ave a bit of me own back on that Brooklyn gent, if he gets off bein’ ’ung. I didn’t lift ’is watch off ’im that night; but I will when ’e gets out.” “Oh, you’re welcome there. Pick his pockets as much as you like.” “In course yer won’t let on ter the police what I’ve been sayin’. I’ve bin treatin’ yer as if yer was a pal, yer know.” Ellery promised that his visitor’s calling should be kept a dead secret. Then he gave him a drink and showed him out, after obtaining a renewal of the promise that he would attend in the morning. The man slouched out into the night. Love did not keep Ellery awake. He was tired, and he slept soundly, only waking in time to snatch a hasty breakfast, and to call for Joan early enough to take her straight round with him to their appointment at Thomas’s office. Chapter XXIII Walter Brooklyn Goes Free