away. Aye, I been to see my daughter--as lives up the coast. And I
didn't come home till today. And I'm no hand at writing letters. However
here we are, and better late than never and no doubt this lawyer
gentleman'll be glad to hear what I can tell him and you."

"Very glad indeed!" responded Brereton. "What is it?"

The old woman turned to a box which stood in a recess in the ingle-nook
at her elbow and took from it a folded newspaper.

"Me and my daughter and her husband read this here account o' the case
against Harborough as it was put before the magistrates," she said. "We
studied it. Now you want to know where Harborough was on the night that
old fellow was done away with. That's it, master, what?"

"That is it," answered Brereton, pressing his arm against Avice, who sat
close at his side. "Yes, indeed! And you----"

"I can tell you where Harborough was between nine o'clock and ten
o'clock that night," replied Mrs. Hamthwaite, with a smile that was not
devoid of cunning. "I know, if nobody else knows!"

"Where, then?" demanded Brereton.

The old woman leaned forward across the hearth.

"Up here on the moor!" she whispered. "Not five minutes' walk from here.
At a bit of a place--Miss there'll know it--called Good Folks' Lift. A
little rise i' the ground where the fairies used to dance, you know,
master."

"You saw him?" asked Brereton.

"I saw him," chuckled Mrs. Hamthwaite. "And if I don't know him, why
then, his own daughter doesn't!"

"You'd better tell us all about it," said Brereton.

Mrs. Hamthwaite gave him a sharp look. "I've given evidence to law folks
before today," she said. "You'll want to know what I could tell before a
judge, like?"

"Of course," replied Brereton.

"Well, then----" she continued. "You see, master, since my old man died,
I've lived all alone up here. I've a bit to live on--not over much, but
enough. All the same, if I can save a bit by getting a hare or a rabbit,
or a bird or two now and then, off the moor--well, I do! We all of us
does that, as lives on the moor: some folks calls it poaching, but we
call it taking our own. Now then, on that night we're talking about, I
went along to Good Folks' Lift to look at some snares I'd set early that
day. There's a good deal of bush and scrub about that place--I was
amongst the bushes when I heard steps, and I looked out and saw a tall
man in grey clothes coming close by. How did I know he were in grey
clothes? Why, 'cause he