Thorn, who comes after Afy,’ I answered, for I did not mind mentioning her name in my passion.  ‘I don’t know any Thorn,’ returned Bethel, ’and I did not know anybody was after Afy but yourself.’  ‘Did you hear a shot?’ I went on.  ’Yes, I did,’ he replied; ’I suppose it was Locksley, for he’s about this evening,’ ‘And I saw you,’ I continued, ’just at the moment the shot was fired, turn round the corner in the direction of Hallijohn’s.’  ’So I did,’ he said, ’but only to strike into the wood, a few paces up.  What’s your drift?’ ‘Did you not encounter Thorn, running from the cottage?’ I persisted.  ‘I have encountered no one,’ he said, ’and I don’t believe anybody’s about but ourselves and Locksley.’  I quitted him, and came off,” concluded Richard Hare.  “He evidently had not seen Thorn, and knew nothing.”

“And you decamped the same night, Richard; it was a fatal step.”

“Yes, I was a fool.  I thought I’d wait quiet, and see how things turned out; but you don’t know all.  Three or four hours later, I went to the cottage again, and I managed to get a minute’s speech with Afy.  I never shall forget it; before I could say one syllable she flew out at me, accusing me of being the murderer of her father, and she fell into hysterics out there on the grass.  The noise brought people from the house—­plenty were in it then—­and I retreated.  ’If she can think me guilty, the world will think me guilty,’ was my argument; and that night I went right off, to stop in hiding for a day or two, till I saw my way clear.  It never came clear; the coroner’s inquest sat, and the verdict floored me over.  And Afy—­but I won’t curse her—­fanned the flame against me by denying that any one had been there that night.  ’She had been at home,’ she said, ’and had strolled out at the back door, to the path that led from West Lynne, and was lingering there when she heard a shot.  Five minutes afterward she returned to the house, and found Locksley standing over her dead father.’”

Mr. Carlyle remained silent, rapidly running over in his mind the chief points of Richard Hare’s communication.  “Four of you, as I understand it, were in the vicinity of the cottage that night, and from one or the other the shot no doubt proceeded.  You were at a distance, you say, Richard; Bethel, also, could not have been—­”

“It was not Bethel who did it,” interrupted Richard; “it was an impossibility.  I saw him, as I tell you, in the same moment that the gun was fired.”

“But now, where was Locksley?”

“It is equally impossible that it could have been Locksley.  He was within my view at the same time, at right angles from me, deep in the wood, away from the paths altogether.  It was Thorn did the deed, beyond all doubt, and the verdict ought to have been willful murder against him.  Carlyle, I see you don’t believe my story.”

“What you say has startled me, and I must take time to consider whether I believe it or not,” said Mr. Carlyle, in his straightforward manner.  “The most singular thing is, if you witnessed this, Thorn’s running from the cottage in the manner you describe, that you did not come forward and denounce him.”