"She slipped down. I never pushed her," Richard broke in.
"Hold your tongue, sir," the squire said sternly. "You have given your evidence. I have now to hear what the accused has to say.
"Now, tell your story."
James now gave his version of the affair.
When he had ended, Mr. Linthorne said gravely, "Have you any witnesses to call?"
"Yes, sir, there are two fishermen outside who saw it."
"Bring them in," the magistrate said to the constable.
Not a word was spoken in the justice room until the constable returned. As James had told his story, the magistrate had listened with disbelief. It had not occurred to him that his nephew could have told a lie, and he wondered at the calmness with which this boy told his story. Why, were it true, Richard was a coward as well as a liar, for with his superior age and height, he should have been able to thrash this boy in a fair fight; yet James's face had not a mark, while his nephew's showed how severely he had been punished.
But his eye fell upon Richard when James said that he had witnesses. He saw an unmistakable look of terror come over his face, and the bitter conviction flashed across him that James's story was the true one.
"There is no occasion to give him the book, Hobson," he said, as the constable was about to hand the Testament to one of the fishermen. "This is a private investigation, not a formal magisterial sitting, and there is no occasion, at this stage, to take any evidence on oath."