She had a fancy that this man was trying to implicate Vernon, and she scarcely dared to frame her next question.
“You mean that you saw him do it?” she asked after a short pause.
“Ah werr standin’ in’s bit o’ garden at back theer,” said he, jerking his head in the direction of the cottage. “An’ Ah see a mon go in, and after a bit Ah see him coom aht. An’ if Mester Mitchell wur knocked deaun,” he went on, doggedly, “Ah say Ah knaw t’ mon as did it. An’ it beant no good to ask me who t’was, for Ah mean to keeap me awn counsel; Ah’m used to’t.”
Olivia did not know what to make of the man. Though his voice was rough, his manner of speech was mild, and betrayed no hostile feeling towards anybody.
“Are you a friend of Mr. Mitchell’s?” she asked tentatively.
“Ay,” nodded Abel, good-humoredly. “He’s never done naw harm to me.”
Seized with a bold idea, Olivia scanned the man narrowly from head to foot.
“Will you tell me what business brought you to see Mr. Mitchell?” she asked, frankly.
Abel Squires examined the girl’s face closely in his turn.
“What do you knaw abaht it?” he asked, shortly.