Still Mr. Ferris remained silent.
"The same reasoning will apply to what followed," continued Mr. Gryce. "You cannot reconcile the thought of his guilt with his taking the case of Mansell and doing all he could to secure his acquittal. But you will find it easier to do so when I tell you that, without taking into consideration any spark of sympathy which he might feel for the man falsely accused of his crime, he knew from Imogene's lips that she would not survive the condemnation of her lover, and that, besides this, his only hope of winning her for his wife lay in the gratitude he might awaken in her if he succeeded in saving his rival."
"You are making him out a great villain," murmured Mr. Ferris, bitterly.
"And was not that the language of his own countenance as he lay dying?" inquired the detective.
Mr. Ferris could not say No. He had himself been too deeply impressed by the sinister look he had observed on the face of his dying friend. He therefore confined himself to remarking, not without sarcasm:
"And now for the motive of this hideous crime—for I suppose your ingenuity has discovered one before this."
"It will be found in his love for Miss Dare," returned the detective; "but just how I am not prepared to-day to say."
"His love for Miss Dare? What had this plain and homespun Mrs. Clemmens to do with his love for Miss Dare?"
"She was an interference."
"How?"