"'Have you seen anybody go this way?' he asked. 'A young man,
running hard? A young man in knickerbockers?'

"'N--no,' I answered, trembling; for I was afraid to confess. 'Not a
soul has gone past!'

"Of course, I didn't know of the murder as yet; and I only wanted to
get off unperceived to the station.

"I'd bound up my hand in my handkerchief by that time, and held it
tight under my cloak. I went back by train unnoticed, and returned
to my friends' house. I hadn't even told them I was going to
Woodbury at all. I pretended I'd been spending the day at
Whittingham. Next morning, I read in the paper of your father's
murder."

I stared hard at Aunt Emma.

"Why didn't you tell me this long ago?" I cried, in an agony of
suspense. "Why didn't you give evidence and say so at the inquest?"

"How could I?" Aunt Emma answered, looking back at me appealingly.
"The circumstances were too suspicious. As it was, everybody was
running after the young man in knickerbockers. Nobody took any
notice of a little old lady in a long grey dust-cloak. But if once
I'd confessed and shown my wounded hand, who would ever have
believed I'd nothing to do with the murder?--except you, perhaps,
Una. Oh no: I came back here to my own home as fast as ever I could;
for I was really ill. I took to my bed at once. And as nobody called
me to give evidence at the inquest, I said nothing to anybody."