The old man regarded the fishermen with surprise and said with dignity:
“My friends, what manner of man do you think I am that you suspect me of such a deed?”
“There’s no one could have done it but you,” said a young man doggedly. “Here lies Trafton at the foot of your ladder, with no one near him but you. You was found with him. It’s a clear case.”
“To be sure!” exclaimed two or three of the women. “Didn’t Robert find you here, standin’ by the dead body of his uncle?”
The hermit turned to our hero, who stood a little in the background, and said quietly:
“Robert, do you think I killed your uncle?”
“I am sure you didn’t,” said Robert, manfully meeting the angry glances which were now cast upon him.
“I am glad to have one friend here,” said the hermit—“one who judges me better than the rest of my neighbors.”
“He doesn’t know anything about you and he’s only a boy!” said Mrs. Scott, thrusting herself forward with arms akimbo. “I allus said there was something wrong about you or you wouldn’t hide yourself away from the sight of men in a cave. Like as not you’ve committed murder before!”
“My good woman,” said the hermit with a sad smile, “I am sorry you have so poor an opinion of me.”