"Why? For what reason?"
Brent laughed in a coarse manner, and there was a leer on his face as he replied to this question. "Don't y' know, sir, Miss Clyde's sweet on Mr. Lovel, and she 'ated Miss Lester like pisin?"
"Are you sure?"
"Sure?" returned Brent, with contempt--"why, ain't I bin ploughman on Clyde's Farm for years? an' ain't I 'eard arl the talk o' the maids? 'Tis well known theer as Miss Clyde 'ud give 'er ears to be Missus Lovel!"
"And you think she killed Miss Lester out of jealousy?"
"I'm sure she did, sir. Wot wos she doin' in th' lane creepin' arter them? Why wasn't she 'ome at the Farm? Oh, no, sir; she did it, for I knows the kin' of temper she 'as! Mad bulls is nothin' to it!"
"Then Dr. Lester is innocent!" said Paul, half to himself.
"Niver thowt he were guilty," returned Brent, drily.
"Then why didn't you come forward at the inquest and confess all this, so as to save an innocent man from arrest?"
Brent reared himself to a giant height, and he laid down his pipe on the table. "Whoy didn't I," he thundered--'"cause I wished t' be honourable for that there money! If I'd said I seed Miss Clyde, I'd have had to say why she wos theer, wouldn't I? and cud I 'ave said she were watchin' Mr. Lovel and the gal when the five pounds were given to me to 'old my tongue? It was either tell arl or shut up," concluded Brent, dropping back into his seat, "so I shut up."