“I will get rid of him, somehow, before long,” he said.  “I will pay him out for his meddling, as sure as my name’s Richard Horton.  I will get him out of this before three months are gone.”

The next morning at breakfast, Richard received a message from the squire that he was to be present at ten o’clock in the justice room, and accordingly, at that hour he presented himself there with a confident air, but with an inward feeling of misgiving.

The squire was sitting at his table, with his clerk beside him.  Mr. Robertson was in a chair a short distance off.  The constable was standing by the side of James Walsham, at the other end of the room.  Mr. Linthorne nodded to his nephew.

“I wish you to repeat the story which you told Mr. Robertson yesterday.”

Richard had thought over whether it would be better to soften his story, but as it had already been told to the squire, he had concluded that there would be more danger in contradicting his first version than in sticking to it.  Accordingly, he repeated his story almost word for word as he had told it to Mr. Robertson.

“What have you to say to this, James Walsham?” the squire asked.  “This is a serious charge, that you without any provocation assaulted and maltreated my nephew.”

“I say it is all a lie, sir,” James said fearlessly.

The squire uttered a short exclamation of surprise and anger.  He had been, at first, favourably impressed with the appearance of the young prisoner, though he had been surprised at seeing that he was younger than his nephew, for he had expected to see a much older boy.

“That is not the way to speak, sir,” he said sternly, while the constable pressed a warning hand on James’s shoulder.

“Well, sir, it’s not true then,” the boy said.  “It’s all false from beginning to end, except that I did strike him first; but I struck him, not because he had thrown a great stone and broken my boat, but because he pushed a little girl who was with me down into the water.”

“She slipped down.  I never pushed her,” Richard broke in.

“Hold your tongue, sir,” the squire said sternly.  “You have given your evidence.  I have now to hear what the accused has to say.

“Now, tell your story.”

James now gave his version of the affair.

When he had ended, Mr. Linthorne said gravely, “Have you any witnesses to call?”

“Yes, sir, there are two fishermen outside who saw it.”

“Bring them in,” the magistrate said to the constable.

Not a word was spoken in the justice room until the constable returned.  As James had told his story, the magistrate had listened with disbelief.  It had not occurred to him that his nephew could have told a lie, and he wondered at the calmness with which this boy told his story.  Why, were it true, Richard was a coward as well as a liar, for with his superior age and height, he should have been able to thrash this boy in a fair fight; yet James’s face had not a mark, while his nephew’s showed how severely he had been punished.