A. No, it didn't. I didn't think about it. Mr Cleghorn, he might have stopped to rest himself, or to tie a bootlace, or anything.
Q. After seeing the figure did you return to the bar?
A. No. I went into the parlour to make tea. Q. And remained there till Mr Cleghorn entered ? A. That's it.
Counsel nodded across at the detective, as if to say, 'Here's possible matter for you, Sergeant,' and with that he closed the examination, and told the witness he might stand down.
Samuel Cleghorn, butler to Sir Calvin, was then called to give evidence. Witness appeared as a substantial, well-nourished man of forty, with a full, rather unexpressive face, a fixed eye (literally), and a large bald tonsure-not at all the sort of figure one would associate with a romantic story of passion and mystery. He admitted his quarrel with the prisoner, pleading excessive provocation, and that he had followed him out on the fatal afternoon with the intention actually suggested by the witness Ketchlove. He had failed, however, to discover him, or the direction in which he had gone, and had ultimately, after some desultory prying about the grounds, withdrawn himself to the upper kitchen gardens, where he had taken refuge in a tool-shed, and there remained, nursing his sorrow, until 3.30 or thereabouts, when, feeling still very overcome, he had decided to go up to the Red Deer for a little refreshment, which he had done, afterwards returning straight to the house.
Q. How did you leave the kitchen garden?
A. By a door in the wall, sir, giving on the downs; and by that way I returned.
Q. During all this time, while you were looking for the prisoner, or mourning in the tool-shed- (laughter)--did you encounter any one?
A. Not a soul that I can remember, sir.
Q. You were greatly attached to the deceased?
A. (With emotion.) I was.
Q. And wished to make her your wife?
Q. Though your acquaintance with her extended over only a couple of months? A. That is so.
Q. Almost a case of love at first sight, eh?
A. As you choose, sir.
Q. Did she return your attachment?
A. Not as I could have wished.
Q. She refused you?
A. I never offered myself to her in so many words. Q. Had you reason to suspect a rival? A. None in particular-till the Frenchman came. Q. Rivals generally, then?
A. Naturally there were many to admire her. Q. But no one in especial to excite your jealousy ? A. No.
Q. Did the deceased give you her confidence?
A. Not what you might call her confidence. We were very friendly.
Q. She never spoke to you of her past life, or of her former situations, or of her relations?
A. No, never. She was not what you might call a communicative young woman.
Q. You had no reason to suspect that she was carrying on with anybody unknown to you? v
A. No reason, sir. I can't answer for my thoughts.
Q. What do you mean by that?
A. Why, I might have wondered now and again why she was so obstinate in resisting me.
Q. But you suspected no rival in particular? I ask you again.
A. A man may think things.
Q. Will you answer my question?
A. Well, then, I didn't.
Q. Are you speaking the truth?
Witness was subjected to some severe cross-questioning on this point, but persisted in his refusal to associate his suspicions with any particular person. He argued only negatively, he said, from the deceased's indifference to himself, which (he declared amid some laughter) was utterly incomprehensible to him on any other supposition than that of a previous attachment. Counsel then continued:-
Q. When, after leaving the garden, you were making for the Red Deer, did you observe any other figure on the hill, going in the same direction as yourself, but in advance of you?
A. There may have been. I won't answer for sure.
Q. Will you explain what you mean by that?
A. I was what you might call preoccupied'-not thinking much of anything but my own trouble. But-yes, I have an idea there was some one.
Q. How was he dressed?
A. I can't say, sir. I never looked; it's only a hazy sort of impression. Q. Was he far ahead?
A. He may have been-very far; or perhaps it was only the shadows. I shouldn't like to swear there was any one at all.
Q. You have heard the witness Henstridge's evidence. Are you sure you are not borrowing from it the idea of this second figure, a sort of simulacrum of yourself?
A. Well, I may be, unconscious as it were. I can't state anything for certain.
Q. Were you walking fast as you got near the inn?
A. I dare say I was-fast for me. (Laughter.) What with one thing and another, my throat was as dry as tinder.
Q. Did you stop, or linger, for any purpose when approaching the inn?
A. Not that I can remember. I may have. What happened afterwards has put all that out of my head.
Q. You mean the news awaiting you on your return ? A. Yes.
Q. So that you can't tell me, I suppose, whether or not, as you climbed the hill, your coat-collar was turned up and the peak of your cap pulled down?
A. It's like enough they were. I had put the things on anyhow in my hurry. But it's all a vague memory.
Counsel. Very well. You can stand down.
Daniel Groome, gardener, was next called. He stated that he was sweeping up leaves in the drive to the east side of the house--that is to say, the side furthest from the copse-on the afternoon of the murder. Had heard the stable clock strike three, and shortly afterwards had seen the young master come out of the head of the Bishop's Walk and go towards the house, which he entered by the front door. He was looking, he thought, in a bit of a temper : but the young master was like that-all in a stew one moment over a little thing, and the next laughing and joking over something that mattered. Had wondered at seeing him back so soon from the shooting, but supposed he had shot wild, as he sometimes would, and was in a pet about it. Did not see him again until he, witness, was summoned to the copse to help remove the body.