"What do you mean?" Tranter exclaimed.
"In that horrible garden, before the crime was committed," pursued Monsieur Dupont evenly, "I lost my way. Such a garden must have been especially designed to cause innocent people to lose their way. I wandered about. How I wandered!"
"What did you overhear?" asked Tranter, in a strained voice.
"A conversation—between that unfortunate Mademoiselle Manderson, and yourself."
"You heard it?" Tranter cried sharply.
"I heard it," admitted Monsieur Dupont. "I heard a great part of it. I believe nearly all. I should not have done so. Understand, I make you all my apologies. It was improper to listen. But the storm, the surroundings, the scene itself, excited me. I listened."
Tranter remained silent.
"I continued to listen, until Mr. Bolsover found me. He was following that young man, Layton. I went with him to the river."
Tranter was still silent—staring straight in front of him with fixed eyes.
"You saw a picture of weakness," he said, at last. "I am not proud of it. I should much prefer to be able to think that no one had seen it. I gave Inspector Fay an account of the whole scene, and of my previous acquaintance with Christine Manderson. He promised to keep it to himself. I hope you will do the same."