The clipped, official lines of this procedure made Rampole feel uneasy. He couldn't talk naturally, and felt that anything he said might be used against him. Justice! — it was a big, unnerving thing. He felt guilty of something without knowing what.
"I did."
"Tell me, then: Why did it occur to you to go directly to the well, instead of through the gate and up to the Governor's Room? Had you reason to suspect what had happened?"
"I–I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out all day. It was just automatic. I'd been reading those journals — the history of the legend, and all that-so…" He gestured, helplessly.
"I see. What did you do afterwards?"
"Well, I was so stunned that I sort of fell back against the hill and sat there. Then I remembered where I was and called for Mr. Saunders."
"And you, Mr. Saunders?"
"For for myself, Sir Benjamin," the rector said, giving the title its full value, "I was almost to the gate of the prison when I — ah — heard Mr. Rampole's summons. I thought it somewhat odd that he should go directly towards the Hag's Nook, and tried to beckon him. But there was scarcely time to think much." He frowned judicially.
"Quite. When you stumbled on the body, Mr. Rampole, it was lying at the edge of the well, directly beneath the balcony?"
"Yes."