“’Im!” said the inspector, not quite pleased by Fairholme’s zeal, and yet overborne by it.  “You’re Wickens’s boy, ain’t you?”

“Yes, I am Wickens’s boy,” said the witness, partly fierce, partly lachrymose, “and I say I seen him, and if anyone sez I didn’t see him, he’s a lie.”

“Come,” said the inspector sharply, “give us none of your cheek, but tell us what you saw, or you’ll have to deal with me afterwards.”

“I don’t care who I deal with,” said the boy, at bay.  “I can’t be took for seein’ him, because there’s no lor agin it.  I was in the gravel pit in the canal meadow—­”

“What business had you there?” said the inspector, interrupting.

“I got leave to be there,” said the boy insolently, but reddening.

“Who gave you leave?” said the inspector, collaring him.  “Ah,” he added, as the captive burst into tears, “I told you you’d have to deal with me.  Now hold your noise, and remember where you are and who you’re speakin’ to; and perhaps I mayn’t lock you up this time.  Tell me what you saw when you were trespassin’ in the meadow.”

“I sor a young ‘omen and a man.  And I see her kissin’ him; and the gentleman won’t believe me.”

“You mean you saw him kissing her, more likely.”

“No, I don’t.  I know wot it is to have a girl kiss you when you don’t want.  And I gev a screech to friken ’em.  And he called me and gev me tuppence, and sez, ‘You go to the devil,’ he sez, ’and don’t tell no one you seen me here, or else,’ he sez, ‘I might be tempted to drownd you,’ he sez, ‘and wot a shock that would be to your parents!’ ’Oh, yes, very likely,’ I sez, jes’ like that.  Then I went away, because he knows Mr. Wickens, and I was afeerd of his telling on me.”

The boy being now subdued, questions were put to him from all sides.  But his powers of observation and description went no further.  As he was anxious to propitiate his captors, he answered as often as possible in the affirmative.  Mr. Jansenius asked him whether the young woman he had seen was a lady, and he said yes.  Was the man a laborer?  Yes—­after a moment’s hesitation.  How was she dressed?  He hadn’t taken notice.  Had she red flowers in her hat?  Yes.  Had she a green dress?  Yes.  Were the flowers in her hat yellow? (Agatha’s question.) Yes.  Was her dress pink?  Yes.  Sure it wasn’t black?  No answer.

“I told you he was a liar,” said Fairholme contemptuously.

“Well, I expect he’s seen something,” said the inspector, “but what it was, or who it was, is more than I can get out of him.”