“No; he could not see me; I was right in the thicket.  He went to the cottage door, and was about to enter, when Afy Hallijohn came hastily out of it, pulling the door to behind her, and holding it in her hand, as if afraid he would go in.  Some colloquy ensued, but I was too far off to hear it; and then she took the gun from him and went indoors.  Some time after that I saw Richard Hare amid the trees at a distance, farther off the cottage, then, than I was, and apparently watching the path.  I was wondering what he was up to, hiding there, when I head a shot fired, close, as it seemed, to the cottage, and—­”

“Stop a bit, witness.  Could that shot have been fired by Richard Hare?”

“It could not.  He was a quarter of a mile, nearly, away from it.  I was much nearer the cottage than he.”

“Go on.”

“I could not imagine what that shot meant, or who could have fired it—­not that I suspected mischief—­and I knew that poachers did not congregate so near Hallijohn’s cottage.  I set off to reconnoiter, and as I turned the corner, which brought the house within my view, I saw Captain Thorn, as he was called, come leaping out of it.  His face was white with terror, his breath was gone—­in short, I never saw any living man betray so much agitation.  I caught his arm as he would have passed me.  ‘What have you been about?’ I asked.  ‘Was it you that fired?’ He—­”

“Stay.  Why did you suspect him?”

“From his state of excitement—­from the terror he was in—­that some ill had happened, I felt sure; and so would you, had you seen him as I did.  My arresting him increased his agitation; he tried to throw me off, but I am a strong man, and I suppose he thought it best to temporize.  ’Keep dark upon it, Bethel,’ he said, ’I will make it worth your while.  The thing was not premeditated; it was done in the heat of passion.  What business had the fellow to abuse me?  I have done no harm to the girl.’  As he thus spoke, he took out a pocket book with the hand that was at liberty; I held the other—­”

“As the prisoner thus spoke, you mean?”

“The prisoner.  He took a bank-note from his pocket book, and thrust it into my hands.  It was a note for fifty pounds.  ’What’s done can’t be undone, Bethel,’ he said, ’and your saying that you saw me here can serve no good turn.  Shall it be silence?’ I took the note and answered that it should be silence.  I had not the least idea that anybody was killed.”

“What did you suppose had happened, then?”

“I could not suppose; I could not think; it all passed in the haste and confusion of a moment, and no definite idea occurred to me.  Thorn flew on down the path, and I stood looking after him.  The next was I heard footsteps, and I slipped within the trees.  They were those of Richard Hare, who took the path to the cottage.  Presently he returned, little less agitated than Thorn had been.  I had gone into an open space, then, and he accosted me, asking if I had seen ‘that hound’ fly from the cottage?  ‘What hound?’ I asked of him.  ’That fine fellow, that Thorn, who comes after Afy,’ he answered, but I stoutly denied that I had seen any one.  Richard Hare continued his way, and I afterward found that Hallijohn was killed.”