What I want to see, sir," he observed in a rustic accent, "is the
gentleman as wrote that piece in your newspaper about this here murder
in Middle Temple Lane."

"You see him," said Spargo. "I am that man."

The caller smiled--generously.

"Indeed, sir?" he said. "A very nice bit of reading, I'm sure. And what
might your name be, now, sir? I can always talk free-er to a man when I
know what his name is."

"So can I," answered Spargo. "My name is Spargo--Frank Spargo. What's
yours?"

"Name of Webster, sir--William Webster. I farm at One Ash Farm, at
Gosberton, in Oakshire. Me and my wife," continued Mr. Webster, again
smiling and distributing his smile between both his hearers, "is at
present in London on a holiday. And very pleasant we find it--weather
and all."

"That's right," said Spargo. "And--you wanted to see me about this
murder, Mr. Webster?"

"I did, sir. Me, I believe, knowing, as I think, something that'll do
for you to put in your paper. You see, Mr. Spargo, it come about in
this fashion--happen you'll be for me to tell it in my own way."

"That," answered Spargo, "is precisely what I desire."

"Well, to be sure, I couldn't tell it in no other," declared Mr.
Webster. "You see, sir, I read your paper this morning while I was
waiting for my breakfast--they take their breakfasts so late in them
hotels--and when I'd read it, and looked at the pictures, I says to my
wife 'As soon as I've had my breakfast,' I says, 'I'm going to where
they print this newspaper to tell 'em something.' 'Aye?' she says,
'Why, what have you to tell, I should like to know?' just like that,
Mr. Spargo."

"Mrs. Webster," said Spargo, "is a lady of businesslike principles. And
what have you to tell?"

Mr. Webster looked into the crown of his hat, looked out of it, and
smiled knowingly.

"Well, sir," he continued, "Last night, my wife, she went out to a part
they call Clapham, to take her tea and supper with an old friend of
hers as lives there, and as they wanted to have a bit of woman-talk,
like, I didn't go. So thinks I to myself, I'll go and see this here
House of Commons. There was a neighbour of mine as had told me that all
you'd got to do was to tell the policeman at the door that you wanted
to see your own Member of Parliament. So when I got there I told 'em
that I wanted to see our M.P., Mr. Stonewood--you'll have heard tell of
him, no doubt; he knows me very well--and they passed me, and I wrote
out a ticket for