"Yes; I did, sir. I was going home, when the danger was over, and the fire had got low, and I came upon Jim Sanders near his cottage, coming from the direction of Layton's Heath. Knowing he had been wanted, I laid hold of him: but the boy told me, simply enough, where he had been,—to Barbrook, Barmester, and Layton's Heath after the engines. He was then hastening to the Hold to help at the fire. I told him the fire was out, and he might get to bed."
"And you told Dumps that he had gone to bed?"
"I did. I never supposed but Jim went home then and there; and when I met Dumps a few minutes afterwards, I told him so. I can't understand it at all. The boy seemed almost too tired to move, and no wonder—and where he could have gone instead, is uncommon odd to me. It's to know whether his mother speaks truth in saying he did not go in," added the farmer, gratuitously imparting a little of his mind to the Bench.
"What did he say to you?"
"He said where he had been, and that he was going up to the Hold," replied the witness, in tones of palpable hesitation, as if weighing his words.
"You are sure it was Jim Sanders?" asked a very silent magistrate who sat at the end of the bench.
Mr. Apperley opened his eyes at this. "Sure it was Jim Sanders? Why, of course I'm sure of it?"
"Well, it appears that only you, so far as can be learnt, saw Jim Sanders at all near the spot after the alarm went out."
"Like enough," answered the farmer. "If the boy went to all these places, one after the other, he couldn't be at the Hold. But there's no mistake about my having seen him, and talked to him."
The danger appeared to be over. The Bench seemed to have no intention of asking further questions of Mr. Apperley, and Nora breathed freely again. But it often happens that when we deem ourselves most secure, hidden danger is all the nearer. As the witness was turning round to retire, Flood, the lawyer, stepped forward.