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.
Q. During the time you were sweeping in the drive, did you hear the sound of a shot?
A. A’many, sir. The gentlemen was out with their guns.
Q. Did any one shot sound to you nearer than the others?
A. One sounded pretty loud.