The man whose presence in the doorway had called out this exclamation started at the sound of the doctor’s heavy voice, and came very hesitatingly forward.  He was of a weak, irritable type, and seemed to be in a state of great excitement.

“I beg pardon,” said he, “for showing myself.  I don’t like to intrude into such company, but I have something to tell you which may be of use, sirs, though it isn’t any great thing, either.”

“Something about the murder which has taken place?” asked the coroner, in a milder tone.  He knew Loton well, and realised the advisability of encouragement in his case.

“The murder!  Oh, I wouldn’t presume to say anything about the murder.  I’m not the man to stir up any such subject as that.  It’s about the money—­or some money—­more money than usually falls into my till.  It—­it was rather queer, sirs, and I have felt the flutter of it all day.  Shall I tell you about it?  It happened last night, late last night, sirs, so late that I was in bed with my wife, and had been snoring, she said, four hours.”

“What money?  New money?  Crisp, fresh bills, Loton?” eagerly questioned Mr. Fenton.

Loton, who was the keeper of a small confectionery and bakery store on one of the side streets leading up the hill, shifted uneasily between his two interrogators, and finally addressed himself to the coroner: 

“It was new money.  I thought it felt so at night, but I was sure of it in the morning.  A brand-new bill, sir, a—­But that isn’t the queerest thing about it.  I was asleep, sir, sound asleep, and dreaming of my courting days (for I asked Sally at the circus, sirs, and the band playing on the hill made me think of it), when I was suddenly shook awake by Sally herself, who says she hadn’t slept a wink for listening to the music and wishing she was a girl again.  ‘There’s a man at the shop door,’ cries she.  ’He’s a-calling of you; go and see what he wants.’  I was mad at being wakened.  Dreaming is pleasant, specially when clowns and kissing get mixed up in it, but duty is duty, and so into the shop I stumbled, swearing a bit perhaps, for I hadn’t stopped for a light and it was as dark as double shutters could make it.  The hammering had become deafening.  No let up till I reached the door, when it suddenly ceased.

“‘What is it?’ I cried.  ‘Who’s there and what do you want?’

“A trembling voice answered me.  ‘Let me in,’ it said.  ’I want to buy something to eat.  For God’s sake, open the door!’

“I don’t know why I obeyed, for it was late, and I did not know the voice, but something in the impatient rattling of the door which accompanied the words affected me in spite of myself, and I slowly opened my shop to this midnight customer.

“‘You must be hungry,’ I began.  But the person who had crowded in as soon as the opening was large enough wouldn’t let me finish.

“’Bread!  I want bread, or crackers, or anything that you can find easiest,’ he gasped, like a man who had been running.  ’Here’s money’; and he poked into my hand a bill so stiff that it rattled.  ‘It’s more than enough,’ he hastened to say, as I hesitated over it, ’but never mind that; I’ll come for the change in the morning.’