"Not much of a fresh one," answered the man, with a stress upon the word "fresh." "I have had it this six or seven months. When they heard he was dead, then they could speak out and tell me their suspicions of him."
"Who could? What mystery are you talking?" reiterated Lionel.
"Never mind who, sir. It was one that kept the mouth shut, as long as there was any good in opening it. 'Not to make ill-blood,' was the excuse gave to me after. If I had but knowed at the time!" added the man, clenching his fist, "I'd have went out and killed him, if he had been double as far off!"
"Robin, what have you heard?"
"Well, sir, I'll tell you—but I have not opened my lips to a living soul,-not even to old father—The villain that did the harm to Rachel was John Massingbird!"
Lionel remained silent from surprise.
"I don't believe it," he presently said, speaking emphatically. "Who has accused him?"
"Sir, I have said that I can't tell you. I passed my word not to do it. It was one that had cause to suspect him at the time. And it was never told me—never told me—until John Massingbird was dead!"
Robin's voice rose to a sound of wailing pain, and he raised his hands with a gesture of despair.
"Did your informant know that it was John Massingbird?" Lionel gravely asked.