"Where were you?"

"I was asleep in the room above Jim"s."

"Was Jim in his room?"

"I suppose so."

"You suppose so. Don"t you know?"

"No, I don"t know."

"But to the best of your knowledge and belief he was there?"

"Yes."

"And the shot waked you?"

"Yes."

"What did you do on hearing the shot?"

"I jumped to the window."

"Tell what you saw, please."

"I saw a man fall in the orchard, and hurried out to see if he was hurt. But he was gone when I got there."

"Then what?"

"I went to speak to Jim."

"He was in his room, then, immediately after the shot?"

"Yes."

"Ah! And when you spoke to him, did he admit firing the shot?"

"No."

"Did he deny it?"

"Yes."

"Where was his gun?"

"In the rack over the mantel."

"In the rack over the mantel," repeated Paige, slowly, glancing at the jurors. "Did you examine it?"

"Yes."

"What was its condition? Did it show that it had been fired?"

"No; it was clean."

"It was clean," repeated Paige. "I understand that it was a double-barreled, muzzle-loading shotgun. Were there any rags about?"

"Yes."

"Where were they?"

"One was in the ashes of the fireplace."

"Look as if some one had tried to hide it?"

"Yes"--reluctantly.

"If it was that sort of gun, there must have been a shot-pouch and powder-flask. Where were they?"

"In the drawer where Jim keeps them."

"Everything looked, then, as if no shot had been fired?"

"Yes."

"Was there any one besides yourself and your son in the house?"

"No."

"Your housekeeper?"

"She had stepped out."

"To the best of your knowledge, then, there was no one about to fire the shot except your son?"

"No."

"That will do," said Paige, with an accent of finality. "That is,"

he added, with the air of one who observes a courteous form, "unless some of the grand jurors wish to ask a question."

There were various things which were new to Mr. Peaslee in this testimony. He had supposed that Jim had been picked as the guilty person by a process of mere exclusion; he had had no idea that the case against him was so strong. How had the boy got to the room so soon after he himself had left, and why had he gone there? And why, why had he cleaned the shotgun? The grand jury must believe in his guilt. And when the case came to trial, what could Jim say to clear himself? It was going hard, hard with the boy.

Mr. Peaslee"s mouth grew dry, his palms moist; he moved uneasily in his chair. Once or twice he felt sure that the next instant he would find himself on his feet, but the minutes pa.s.sed and he still was seated.

And Farnsworth, anxious, for the sake of his betrothed, Miss Ware, to help Jim, was nonplussed. There were two possible explanations of Jim"s cleaning the gun, if he did clean it: the first, that Jim was protecting himself; the second, that he was shielding some one else.

But the second theory seemed quite untenable. Farnsworth had made some cautious but well-directed inquiries about Mr. Edwards, and had satisfied himself that the rumors about his smuggling were nothing but malicious gossip. There was not a man of greater honesty in the state. The boy must have done the shooting. Miss Ware would have to give it up. Still, he would hazard a question.