"I have not," said Flory; "I wasn't in it at all."
"Who says that you were in it? But you know."
"'Deed and I know nothin'." Now the boy began to cry. "You have no right to say I did it. Why should I do the likes of that?"
"Where were you at four o'clock yesterday afternoon?" asked Edith.
"I was just out, up at the lodge yonder."
"Flory, I know that you have seen this thing done. I am as certain of it as though I had been there myself."
"I haven't seen anything done—and I won't stay here to be questioned this way," said the boy, feeling that his blushes would betray him, and his incapacity to "lie square," as the Americans say.
Then the two sisters were left to talk over the matter together. "Did you not see it in his face?" said Edith.
"Yes, I saw something. But you don't mean to say that he knew it was to be done? That would make him a fiend."
"No; I don't think he knew it was to be done. But when Frank was teasing him the other day about his Catholic nonsense, and saying that he would not trust a Papist, Florian took the part of Pat Carroll. If there be a man about the place who would do a base turn to father, it's Pat Carroll. Now I know that Flory was down near the lough yesterday afternoon. Biddy Ryan saw him. If he went on he must have seen the water coming in."