“You had no views toward her of a different nature?”

“None; I cared for her too much for that; and I respected her father.  Afy’s mother had been a lady, too, although she had married Hallijohn, who was but clerk to Mr. Carlyle.  No; I never had a thought of wrong toward Afy—­I never could have had.”

“Now relate the occurrences of the evening?”

“Afy would not admit me, and we had a few words over it; but at length I went away, first giving her the gun, and telling her it was loaded.  She lodged it against the wall, just inside the door, and I went into the wood and waited, determined to see whether or not Thorn was with her, for she had denied that he was.  Locksley saw me there, and asked why I was hiding.  I did not answer; but I went further off, quite out of view of the cottage.  Some time afterward, less than half an hour, I heard a shot in the direction of the cottage.  Somebody was having a late pop at the partridge, I thought.  Just then I saw Otway Bethel emerge from the trees, not far from me, and run toward the cottage.  My lord,” added Richard Hare, looking at the judge, “that was the shot that killed Hallijohn!”

“Could the shot,” asked the counsel, “have been fired by Otway Bethel?”

“It could not.  It was much further off.  Bethel disappeared, and in another minute there came some one flying down the path leading from the cottage.  It was Thorn, and evidently in a state of intense terror.  His face was livid, his eyes staring, and he panted and shook like one in the ague.  Past me he tore, on down the path, and I afterwards heard the sound of his horse galloping away; it had been tied in the wood.”

“Did you follow him?”

“No.  I wondered what had happened to put him in that state; but I made haste to the cottage, intending to reproach Afy with her duplicity.  I leaped up the two steps, and fell over the prostrate body of Hallijohn.  He was lying dead within the door.  My gun, just discharged, was flung on the floor, its contents in Hallijohn’s side.”

You might have heard a pin drop in court, so intense was the interest.

“There appeared to be no one in the cottage, upstairs or down.  I called to Afy, but she did not answer.  I caught up the gun, and was running from the cottage when Locksley came out of the wood and looked at me.  I grew confused, fearful, and I threw the gun back again and made off.”

“What were your motives for acting in that way?”

“A panic had come over me, and in that moment I must have lost the use of my reason, otherwise I never should have acted as I did.  Thoughts, especially of fear, pass through our minds with astonishing swiftness, and I feared lest the crime should be fastened upon me.  It was fear made me snatch up my gun, lest it should be found near the body; it was fear made me throw it back again when Locksley appeared in view—­a fear you understand, from which all judgment, all reason, had departed.  But for my own conduct, the charge never would have been laid to me.”