"Well, girl, you shall prove the motive." The Deemster opened the snuff-horn on the mantel-shelf. "_I_ am to do so?" The Deemster glanced up sharply under his spectacles. "Yes, you child--you," he said, with quiet emphasis, and lifted his pinch of snuff to his nose. Mona's breast began to heave, and all her slight frame to quiver. "Father," she said, faintly, "do you mean that I am to be the chief witness against the man who took my brother's life?" "Well, perhaps, but we shall see. And now for supper, and then to bed, for we must be stirring before the lark." Mona was going out of the room with a heavy step, when the Deemster, who had seated himself at the table, raised his eyes. "Wait," he said; "when were you last out of the house?" "Yesterday morning, sir. I was at the plowing match." "Have you had any visitors since five last night?" "Visitors--five--I do not understand--" "That will do, child." Jarvis Kerruish came into the room at this moment. He was the Deemster's sole companion at supper that night. And so ended that terrible Christmas Day. CHAPTER XXX THE DEEMSTER'S INQUEST It was at the late dawn of the following morning that Dan Mylrea escaped from his night-long burial in the shaft of the disused lead mine. On his way to Ballamona he went by the little shed where Mrs. Kerruish lived with her daughter Mally. The sound of his footstep on the path brought the old woman to the doorway. "Asking pardon, sir," the old body said, "and which way may you be going?" Dan answered that he was going to Ballamona. "Not to the Deemster's? Yes? Och! no. Why, d'ye say? Well, my daughter was away at the Street last night--where she allis is o' nights, more's the pity, leaving me, a lone woman, to fret and fidget--and there in the house where they tell all newses, the guzzling craythurs, they were sayin' as maybe it was yourself as shouldn't trouble the Deemster for a bit of a spell longer." Dan took no further heed of the old woman's warning than to thank her as he passed on. When he got to Ballamona the familiar place looked strange and empty. He knocked, but there was no answer. He called, but there was no reply. Presently a foot on the gravel woke the vacant stillness. It was Hommy-beg, and at sight of Dan he lifted both his hands. Then, amid many solemn exclamations, slowly, disjointedly, explaining, excusing, Hommy told what had occurred. And no sooner had Dan realized the business that was afoot, and that the Deemster, with Jarvis Kerruish and Mona, were gone to Ramsey on a court of inquiry touching Ewan's death, than he straightway set his face in the same direction. "The court begins its business at eight, you say? Well, good-by, Hommy, and God bless you!" he said, and turned sharply away. But he stopped suddenly, and came back the pace or two. "Wait, let us shake hands, old friend; we may not have another chance. Good-by." In a moment Dan was going at a quick pace down the road.