To know anybody who knew
anything about Joseph Wilmot's murder was to occupy a post of some
distinction in Winchester just now.
"Yes," Margaret said; "I want to give evidence against Henry Dunbar."
The railway official started, and stared aghast.
"Evidence against Mr. Dunbar, miss?" he said; "why, Mr. Henry Dunbar was
dismissed from custody only yesterday afternoon, and is going up to town
by the express this night, and everybody in Winchester is full of the
shameful way in which he has been treated. Why, as far as that goes,
there was no more ground for suspecting Mr. Dunbar--not that has come
out yet, at any rate--than there is for suspecting me!" And the porter
snapped his fingers contemptuously. "But if you know anything against
Mr. Dunbar, why, of course, that alters the case; and it's yer bounden
dooty, miss, to go before the magistrate directly-minute and make yer
statement."
The porter could hardly refrain, from smacking his lips with an air of
relish as he said this. Distinction had come to him unsought.
"Wait a minute, miss," he said; "I'll go and ask lief to take you round
to the magistrate's. You'll never find your way by yourself. The next up
isn't till 12.7--I can be spared."
The porter ran away, presented himself to a higher official, told his
story, and obtained a brief leave of absence.
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