Throwing open the library door, he came face to face with Mr. Seccombe and Mr. Tregonning, two or three shadowy figures bringing up the rear.
"We must ask your pardon, Sir John, for intruding at this late hour," the vicar said, constituting himself chief spokesman, "but Mr. Tregonning and myself felt that the matter was of so much importance that there ought to be not an hour's unnecessary delay."
"Indeed; will you come into the library?" Sir John said pompously, though he felt not a little curious as to what was in the wind.
Standing with his back against the mantelpiece, Sir John motioned his visitors to seats. Budda, however, elected to stand guard over the door.
For several moments there was silence, while the vicar looked at Mr. Tregonning and Mr. Tregonning looked at the vicar.
At last they appeared to understand each other, and the vicar cleared his throat.
"The truth is, Sir John," he began, "I was interrupted in my work this evening by a visit from this young man"--inclining his head toward Brewer--"who informed me that it was he who shot you, accidentally, on the 29th September last----"
"Stuff and nonsense," Sir John snapped, withdrawing his shoulders suddenly from the mantelpiece. "Do you think I don't know a face when I see it?"
"And yet, sir, it were my face you saw," Brewer interposed suddenly.
"Don't believe it," Sir John replied, with a snort.
"You must admit, sir," Mr. Tregonning interposed apologetically, "that this young man is not unlike Ralph Penlogan."
"No more like him than I am," Sir John retorted, almost angrily.
"Anyhow, you had better hear the story from the young man's lips," said the vicar mildly, "then your own man Bilkins will give evidence that he saw him close to the plantation on the afternoon in question."
"Then why did you not say so?" Sir John snarled, glaring angrily at his gardener.
"'Tweren't for the likes of me," Bilkins said humbly, "to say anything as would seem to contradict what you said. I hopes I know my place."
"I hope you do," Sir John growled; and then he turned his attention to the young miner.
Brewer told his story straightforwardly and without any outward sign of nervousness. He had braced himself to the task--his nerves were strung up to the highest point of tension, and he was determined to see the thing through now, cost what it might.