Not a word was spoken in the justice room until the constable returned.
As James had told his story, the magistrate had listened with
disbelief. It had not occurred to him that his nephew could have told a
lie, and he wondered at the calmness with which this boy told his
story. Why, were it true, Richard was a coward as well as a liar, for
with his superior age and height, he should have been able to thrash
this boy in a fair fight; yet James's face had not a mark, while his
nephew's showed how severely he had been punished.

But his eye fell upon Richard when James said that he had witnesses. He
saw an unmistakable look of terror come over his face, and the bitter
conviction flashed across him that James's story was the true one.

"There is no occasion to give him the book, Hobson," he said, as the
constable was about to hand the Testament to one of the fishermen.
"This is a private investigation, not a formal magisterial sitting, and
there is no occasion, at this stage, to take any evidence on oath."

"What is your name, my man?"

"John Mullens, your honour."

"Well, just tell me, Mullens, what you know about this business."

"I was a-mending my nets, yer honour, along with Simon Harte, and young
Master Walsham was a-sailing his boat in a pool, along with the little
gal as lives at his mother's."

"How far were you from the spot where he was?" the squire asked.