He was engaged on this obligation, when a hand touched him, and on looking round he saw Patience Kite.
"Captain Saltren," said the woman, "why are you here? I saw you both on top of the cleave, and I do know that he did not fall by chance. I will not tell of you."
He looked at her with blank eyes.
"Others may have seen you besides myself. You must not be found here."
"I am glad," said he, dreamily, talking to himself, not to her, "I am glad that I had, myself, no occasion against him. I thought I had, but I had not."
"Come with me," said Mrs. Kite, "folks are near at hand. I hear them."
He looked wistfully at the dead face.
"I cannot," he said.
"What! Do you want to be taken by the police?"
"I cannot—I am held by the blue-bottle." In a moment she stooped, snapped her hands together and caught the fly.
"Now," said Saltren, "I will follow. It was not I, I am but the miserable instrument. The hand did it that brought him my way, that led him to the edge, and that then laid hold of my arm."
Patience caught him by the shoulder and urged him away.
"You must not be seen near the body. Take my advice and be off to Captain Tubb about some lime, and so establish an alibi."
Saltren shook his head.
"If not, then come along with me. I will show you a hiding-place no one thinks of. Folks could not tell how to take it, when they didn't find me lying buried under the fallen chimney; but when I saw it was cracking, I made off through the dust, and none saw me escape. At the night-meeting some thought, when I stood on the table behind
