“Yes, but to save his own neck. That makes a difference. My theory is that he quarrelled violently with Mark over the girl, and killed him in sudden passion. Anything that happened after that would be self-defense. I don’t mean that I excuse it, but that I understand it. And I think that Mark’s dead body is in the passage now, and has been there since, say, half-past two yesterday afternoon. And to-night Cayley is going to hide it in the pond.”
Bill pulled at the moss on the ground beside him, threw away a handful or two, and said slowly, “You may be right, but it’s all guess-work, you know.”
Antony laughed.
“Good Lord, of course it is,” he said. “And to-night we shall know if it’s a good guess or a bad one.”
Bill brightened up suddenly.
“To-night,” he said. “I say, to-night’s going to be rather fun. How do we work it?”
Antony was silent for a little.
“Of course,” he said at last, “we ought to inform the police, so that they can come here and watch the pond to-night.”
“Of course,” grinned Bill.
“But I think that perhaps it is a little early to put our theories before them.”