a man, a stranger in the town, had privately
sought Mr. Vigors, and deposed that, on the
night of the murder, he had been taking refuge
from a sudden storm under shelter of the eaves
and buttresses of a wall adjoining an old
archway; that he had heard men talking within the
archway; had heard one say to the other, "You
still bear me a grudge." The other had
replied, "I can forgive you on one condition."
That he then lost much of the conversation that
ensued, which was in a lower voice; but he
gathered enough to know that the condition
demanded by the one was the possession of a
casket which the other carried about with him.
That there seemed an altercation on this matter
between the two men, which, to judge by the
tones of voice, was angry on the part of the
man demanding the casket; that, finally, this
man said in a loud key, "Do you still refuse?"
and on receiving the answer, which the witness
did not overhear, exclaimed threateningly, "It
is you who will repent;" and then stepped forth
from the arch into the street. The rain had
then ceased, but, by a broad flash of lightning,
the witness saw distinctly the figure of the
person thus quitting the shelter of the arch; a
man of tall stature, powerful frame, erect
carriage. A little time afterwards, witness saw a
slighter and older man come forth from the arch,
whom he could only examine by the flickering
ray of the gas-lamp near the wall, the lightning
having ceased, but whom he fully believed
to be the person he afterwards discovered to be
Sir Philip Derval.

He said that he himself had only arrived at
the town a few hours before; a stranger to
L——, and indeed to England; having come
from the United States of America, where he
had passed his life from childhood. He had
journeyed on foot to L——, in the hope of
finding there some distant relatives. He had
put up at a small inn, after which he had strolled
through the town, when the storm had driven
him to seek shelter. He had then failed to
find his way back to the inn, and after wandering
about in vain, and seeing no one at that late
hour of night of whom he could ask the way,
he had crept under a portico and slept for two
or three hours. Waking towards the dawn, he
had then got up, and again sought to find his
way to the inn, when he saw in a narrow street
before him two men, one of whom, he
recognised  as the taller of the two, to whose
conversation he had listened under the arch, the other
he did not recognise at the moment. The taller
man seemed angry and agitated, and he heard
him say, "The casket; I will have it." There
then seemed a struggle between these two
persons, when the taller one struck down the
shorter, knelt on his breast, and he caught
distinctly the gleam, of some steel instrument.
That he was so frightened that he could not
stir from the place, and that though he cried
out, he believed his voice was not heard. He
then saw the taller man rise, the other resting
on the pavement motionless, and a minute or so
afterwards beheld policemen coming to the
place, on which he, the witness, walked away.
He did not know that a murder had been
committed; it might be only an assault; it was no
business of his, he was a stranger. He thought
it best not to interfere, the policemen having
cognisance of the affair. He found out his inn;
for the next few days he was, however, absent
from L—— in search of his relations, who had
left the town, many years ago, to fix their
residence in one of the neighbouring villages.

He was, however, disappointed, none of these
relations now survived. He had returned to L——,
heard of the murder, was in doubt what to do,
might get himself into trouble if, a mere stranger,
he gave an unsupported testimony. But, on the
day before the evidence was volunteered, as he
was lounging in the streets, he had seen a
gentleman pass by on horseback, in whom he
immediately recognised the man who, in his belief,
was the murderer of Sir Philip Derval. He
inquired of a bystander the name of the gentleman,
the answer was 'Dr. Fenwick.' That,
the rest of the day, he felt much disturbed in
his mind, not liking to volunteer such a charge
against a man of apparent respectability and
station. But that his conscience would not let
him sleep that night, and he had resolved at
morning to go to the magistrate and make a
clean breast of it.

This story was in itself so improbable that
any other magistrate but Mr. Vigors would,
perhaps, have dismissed it in contempt. But
Mr. Vigors, already so bitterly prejudiced
against me, and not sorry, perhaps, to
subject me to the humiliation of so horrible a
charge, immediately issued his warrant to search
my house. I was absent at Derval Court; the
house was searched. In the bureau in my
favourite study, which was left unlocked, the
steel casket was discovered, and a large case-
knife, on the blade of which the stains of blood
were still perceptible. On this discovery I was
apprehended, and on these evidences, and on the
deposition of this vagrant stranger, I was, not
indeed committed to take my trial for murder,
but placed in confinement; all bail for my
appearance refused, and the examination
adjourned to give time for further evidence and
inquiries. I had requested the professional
aid of Mr. Jeeves. To my surprise and dismay
Mr. Jeeves begged me to excuse him. He said
he was pre-engaged by Mr. Strahan to detect and
prosecute the murderer of Sir P. Derval, and
could not assist one accused of the murder. I
gathered from the little he said that Strahan
had already been to him that morning and told him
of the missing manuscript—that Strahan had
ceased to be my friend. I engaged another
solicitor, a young man of ability, and who professed
personal esteem for me. Mr. Stanton (such was
the lawyer's name) believed in my innocence;
but he warned me that appearances were grave,
he implored me to be perfectly frank with him.
Had I held conversation with Sir Philip under
the archway as reported by the witness? Had
I used such or similar words? Had the
deceased said, "I had a grudge against him?"