said, but because of the unfamiliar accent which the judge
immediately recognised. The man was a Scotsman, and he spoke with the
accent common to that district where Jean was reared. The judge drew
nearer and listened attentively.

"I tell you," said the man, "I saw this Bolitho when he was but a lad.
My brother, Willie Fearn, courted Jean, and it was Bolitho who took her
away from him. Ye dinna believe me? Am I not called Archie Fearn?
Ay, but I know."

The men to whom he spoke laughed incredulously.

"Yo've been drinking too much Scotch whisky," said one with a laugh.

"I can carry more whisky than any man in Brunford," was his reply. "I
was ne'er a steady, God-fearing man like my brother Willie. It might
have been better for me if I had been. He's a rich man the noo, while
I have to come to this dirty hole to get a living. Ay, I know more
about this business than you think."

At this there was much incredulous laughter, and then Judge Bolitho
heard the man cry out something about his having seen someone on the
very night of the murder. The conversation was not by any means
connected, but Judge Bolitho, anxious to catch at any straw, determined
not to allow the Scotsman to escape him. It might end in nothing;
still, there was possibly something in what the man had said.

A few minutes later Archie Fearn left his companions, evidently with
the purpose of making his way to a public-house which stood at the
corner of the Market Square. Before he reached it, however, the judge
had come up to him and touched his arm.

"So you call yourself Archie Fearn now, do you?" he said quickly.

"Ay, and who dares say I'm not Archie Fearn?" replied the man. "Was I
no born in Scotland? And do I not speak like a Scotsman?"

"You did not call yourself Archie Fearn the last time I saw you," said
the judge.

"And when might ye have seen me?"

"I saw you in Liverpool two years ago. You called yourself John
McPhail then, and it was my duty to give you six months with hard
labour."

The man looked at the judge coolly. "Ay, very likely," he replied.
"Ay, I remember noo, I remember noo," and he laughed significantly.

"Why do you laugh?" asked the judge.

"I was thinking," was the reply. "I think of mony things. The Scotch
are a canny people. You'll be knowing that yourself, my lord."

"And you say you're Willie Fearn's brother?" said the judge.

"Ay, I am and all. It's perfectly true that Willie is an elde