“I know he did it,” proceeded Afy. “It is true that I did not see it done, but I know it for all that. I know it, sir.”
“You cannot know it, Afy.”
“I do know it, sir; I would not assert it to you if I did not. If Richard Hare was here, present before us, and swore until he was black in the face that it was not him, I could convict him.”
“By what means?”
“I had rather not say, sir. But you may believe me, for I am speaking truth.”
“There was another friend of yours present that evening, Afy. Lieutenant Thorn.”
Afy’s face turned crimson; she was evidently surprised. But Mr. Carlyle’s speech and manner were authoritative, and she saw it would be useless to attempt to trifle with him.
“I know he was, sir. A young chap who used to ride over some evenings to see me. He had nothing to do with what occurred.”
“Where did he ride from?”
“He was stopping with some friends at Swainson. He was nobody, sir.”