“On the contrary，” said Holmes， “it is the brightest rift whichI can at present see in the clouds. However innocent he mightbe， he could not be such an absolute imbecile as not to see thatthe circumstances were very black against him. Had he appearedsurprised at his own arrest， or feigned indignation at it， I shouldhave looked upon it as highly suspicious， because such surpriseor anger would not be natural under the circumstances， and yetmight appear to be the best policy to a scheming man. His frankacceptance of the situation marks him as either an innocent man，or else as a man of considerable self-restraint and firmness. Asto his remark about his deserts， it was also not unnatural if youconsider that he stood beside the dead body of his father， and thatthere is no doubt that he had that very day so far forgotten hisfilial duty as to bandy words with him， and even， according to thelittle girl whose evidence is so important， to raise his hand as if tostrike him. The self-reproach and contrition which are displayedin his remark appear to me to be the signs of a healthy mind ratherthan of a guilty one.”
I shook my head. “Many men have been hanged on far slighterevidence，” I remarked.
“So they have. And many men have been wrongfully hanged.”
“What is the young man’s own account of the matter？”
“It is， I am afraid， not very encouraging to his supporters，though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive. Youwill find it here， and may read it for yourself.”
He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshirepaper， and having turned down the sheet he pointed out theparagraph in which the unfortunate young man had given his ownstatement of what had occurred. I settled myself down in thecorner of the carriage and read it very carefully. It ran in this way：
“Mr. James McCarthy， the only son of the deceased， was then calledand gave evidence as follows： ‘I had been away from home for threedays at Bristol， and had only just returned upon the morning oflast Monday， the 3rd. My father was absent from home at the timeof my arrival， and I was informed by the maid that he had drivenover to Ross with John Cobb， the groom. Shortly after my returnI heard the wheels of his trap in the yard， and， looking out of mywindow， I saw him get out and walk rapidly out of the yard， thoughI was not aware in which direction he was going. I then took mygun and strolled out in the direction of the Boscombe Pool， withthe intention of visiting the rabbit warren which is upon the otherside. On my way I saw William Crowder， the game-keeper， as hehad stated in his evidence； but he is mistaken in thinking that I wasfollowing my father. I had no idea that he was in front of me. Whenabout a hundred yards from the pool I heard a cry of ‘Cooee！’ whichwas a usual signal between my father and myself. I then hurriedforward， and found him standing by the pool. He appeared to bemuch surprised at seeing me and asked me rather roughly what Iwas doing there. A conversation ensued which led to high words andalmost to blows， for my father was a man of a very violent temper.
Seeing that his passion was becoming ungovernable， I left him andreturned towards Hatherley Farm. I had not gone more than 150yards， however， when I heard a hideous outcry behind me， whichcaused me to run back again. I found my father expiring upon theground， with his head terribly injured. I dropped my gun and heldhim in my arms， but he almost instantly expired. I knelt beside himfor some minutes， and then made my way to Mr. Turner’s lodgekeeper，his house being the nearest， to ask for assistance. I saw noone near my father when I returned， and I have no idea how hecame by his injuries. He was not a popular man， being somewhatcold and forbidding in his manners， but he had， as far as I know， noactive enemies. I know nothing further of the matter.”
“The Coroner： Did your father make any statement to youbefore he died？
“Witness： He mumbled a few words， but I could only catchsome allusion to a rat.
“The Coroner： What did you understand by that？
“Witness： It conveyed no meaning to me. I thought that he wasdelirious.
“The Coroner： What was the point upon which you and yourfather had this final quarrel？
“Witness： I should prefer not to answer.
“The Coroner： I am afraid that I must press it.
“Witness： It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can assureyou that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which followed.
“The Coroner： That is for the court to decide. I need not pointout to you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your caseconsiderably in any future proceedings which may arise.
“Witness： I must still refuse.
“The Coroner： I understand that the cry of ‘Cooee’ was acommon signal between you and your father？
“Witness： It was.
“The Coroner： How was it， then， that he uttered it before he sawyou， and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol？
“Witness （with considerable confusion）： I do not know.
“A Juryman： Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicionswhen you returned on hearing the cry and found your fatherfatally injured？
“Witness： Nothing definite.
“The Coroner： What do you mean？
“Witness： I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out intothe open， that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet Ihave a vague impression that as I ran forward something lay uponthe ground to the left of me. It seemed to me to be somethinggrey in colour， a coat of some sort， or a plaid perhaps. When I rosefrom my father I looked round for it， but it was gone.
“ ‘Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help？’
“ ‘Yes， it was gone.’
“ ‘You cannot say what it was？’
“ ‘No， I had a feeling something was there.’
“ ‘How far from the body？’
“ ‘A dozen yards or so.’
“ ‘And how far from the edge of the wood？’
“ ‘About the same.’
“ ‘Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozenyards of it？’
“ ‘Yes， but with my back towards it.’
“This concluded the examination of the witness.”
“I see，” said I as I glanced down the column， “that the coronerin his concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy.