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288 annoyance. “You’ve done quite right.” He seated himself where he had been before; and again half-covered his face with his hand.

“And Dixon knew of this. I believe I must put the fact plainly—to you—your father was the guilty person? He murdered Dunster?”

“Yes. If you call it murder. It was done by a blow, in the heat of passion. No one can ever tell how Dunster always irritated papa,” said Ellinor, in a stupid, heavy way; and then she sighed.

“How do you know this?” There was a kind of tender reluctance in the judge’s voice, as he put all these questions. Ellinor had made up her mind beforehand that something like them must be asked, and must also be answered; but she spoke like a sleep-walker.

“I came into papa’s room just after he had struck Mr. Dunster the blow. He was lying insensible, as we thought—dead, as he really was.”

“What was Dixon’s part in it? He must have known a good deal about it. And the horse-lancet that was found with his name upon it?”

“Papa went to wake Dixon, and he brought his fleam—I suppose to try and bleed him. I have said enough, have I not? I seem so confused. But I will answer any question to make it appear that Dixon is innocent.”