As Mr. Carlyle turned away, he met Otway Bethel, a nephew of Colonel Bethel’s, who was tolerated in the colonel’s house because he had no other home, and appeared incapable to making himself one.  Some persons persisted in calling him a gentleman—­as he was by birth—­others a mauvais sujet.  The two are united sometimes.  He was dressed in a velveteen suit, and had a gun in his hand.  Indeed, he was rarely seen without a gun, being inordinately fond of sport; but, if all tales whispered were true, he supplied himself with game in other ways than by shooting, which had the credit of going up to London dealers.  For the last six months or near upon it, he had been away from West Lynne.

“Why, where have you been hiding yourself?” exclaimed Mr. Carlyle.  “The colonel has been inconsolable.”

“Come, no gammon, Carlyle.  I have been on the tramp through France and Germany.  Man likes a change sometimes.  As to the revered colonel, he would not be inconsolable if he saw me nailed up in a six-foot box, and carried out feet foremost.”

“Bethel, I have a question to ask you,” continued Mr. Carlyle, dropping his light manner and his voice together.  “Take your thoughts back to the night of Hallijohn’s murder.”

“I wish you may get it,” cried Mr. Bethel.  “The reminiscence is not attractive.”

“You’ll do it,” quietly said Mr. Carlyle.  “It has been told me, though it did not appear at the inquest, that Richard Hare held a conversation with you in the wood a few minutes after the deed was done.  Now—­”

“Who told you that?” interrupted Bethel.

“That is not the question.  My authority is indisputable.”

“It is true that he did.  I said nothing about it, for I did not want to make the case worse against Dick Hare than it already was.  He certainly did accost me, like a man flurried out of his life.”

“Asking if you had seen a certain lover of Afy’s fly from the cottage.  One Thorn.”

“That was the purport.  Thorn, Thorn—­I think Thorn was the name he mentioned.  My opinion was, that Dick was either wild or acting a part.”

“Now, Bethel, I want you to answer me truly.  The question cannot affect you either way, but I must know whether you did see this Thorn leave the cottage.”

Bethel shook his head.  “I know nothing whatever about any Thorn, and I saw nobody but Dick Hare.  Not but what a dozen Thorns might have run from the cottage without my seeing them.”

“You heard the shot fired?”

“Yes; but I never gave a thought to mischief.  I knew Locksley was in the wood, and supposed it came from him.  I ran across the path, bearing toward the cottage, and struck into the wood on the other side.  By and by, Dick Hare pitched upon me, like one startled out of his seven senses, and asked if I had seen Thorn leave the cottage.  Thorn—­that was the name.”

“And you had not?”

“I had seen nobody but Dick, excepting Locksley.  My impression was, that nobody else was about; I think so still.”