“Not for a long time—several months.”
“Subsequent to the murder, I presume?”
“Oh, yes!”
Mr. Ball’s eyes gave a twinkle, and the unconscious Afy surreptitiously smoothed, with one finger, the glossy parting of her hair.
“Besides Captain Thorn, what gentlemen were in the wood the night of the murder?”
“Richard Hare was there. Otway Bethel and Locksley also. Those were all I saw until the crowd came.”
“Were Locksley and Mr. Otway Bethel martyrs to your charms, as the other two were?”
“No, indeed!” was the witness’s answer, with an indignant toss of the head. “A couple of poaching fellows like them! They had better have tried it on!”
“Which of the two, Hare or Thorn, was inside the cottage with you that evening?”
Afy came out of her vanity and hesitated. She was beginning to wonder where the questions would get to.