“Squire Turner,” said our hero, feeling that the crisis had come, “you have asked me the question, and of course you wish me to answer it truly.”
“Of course,” muttered the squire, whose nervousness increased.
“Then,” said Harry, firmly, “you set the house on fire yourself!”
The words were like a thunderbolt. The squire started to his feet, his face livid with fear, and then purple with excitement.
“How dare you say such a scandalous thing?” he exclaimed.
“Because you expect me to tell the truth,” said Harry. “If you will listen, I will tell you how I came to know.”
Hereupon he gave an account, in as few words as possible, of his midnight visit to the house of Doctor Lamson, of his passing near the house, and identifying the squire in the act of setting fire to some shavings. Squire Turner listened, evidently in a state of nervous excitement, fidgeting about in a manner which indicated his mental disturbance. When Harry had finished, he spoke.
“This is the most impudent fabrication I ever heard. You mean to charge that I—a rich man, and, if I say it myself, universally respected—actually set fire to my own house at the dead of night!”
“I do,” said Harry, firmly.
“I have a great mind to kick you out of my house,” said the squire, violently.