Someway in the depth of his
earnestness, Sexton no longer appeared a servant. He was a man, voicing a
man's heart. West realized the change instinctively; here was an
intelligent loyal fellow, to be met frankly, and for the time being, at
least, on the ground of equality. It would be useless to try to either
mislead, or deceive.
"Sexton," he began finally, "this is a pretty serious charge you make,
my man, but since I have been thinking things over, I confess some
suspicious circumstances have arisen in my own mind. Of course I was
not aware of these facts you have just related, but they fit in nicely
with some observations of my own. The truth is," he confessed frankly,
"I did not tell all I knew to the coroner's jury. I meant to do so, but
the right questions were not asked me, and certain details slipped my
memory until too late. Do you recall a boulder of rock out in that
clover field?"
"Yes, sir, to the right of the path; it is mostly hidden now by
the growth."
"Entirely concealed a few yards away. Well, when I crawled through the
fence after hearing that shot fired, I saw nothing, and heard nothing. I
had advanced into the field several rods when I came upon the trail of
some one leading directly north. It was not a path; merely evidence that
a single person had passed that way. I followed, and came to this
boulder. Here there was every proof visible that the previous party had
remained for some time, seated and lying on the ground under protection
of the stone.
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