“Yes, a dark, pointed beard! Isn’t that Courtenay?”
“Sounds like him. Did she describe him further?”
“Yes, but only when I dragged it out of her. She vowed she couldn’t see him clearly, and I pretended I wanted her to say a round, smooth-shaven face, and little by little I wormed it out, and it was Courtenay to the life. Then, Mrs. Stannard weakened on the whole show, which proves it.”
“You say you’ve thought of him before?”
“Only vaguely. But you know his story. How he sat on the lawn bench and watched the lights go off and on! Good work, that! He himself turned them off and then escaped to the lawn, and cleverly sat there to see what occurred, instead of going home, and thereby being suspected.”
“And kept still when he found those two women were accused?”
“Sure. He knew they’d get off all right, and if he expected to marry Mrs. Stannard, he couldn’t let himself get into the game. So he made up his simple, clever yarn, and stuck to it. Yes, sir, Courtenay’s your man!”
“Wait, what about that conversation Mrs. Stannard overheard? She says her husband was talking to a woman.”
“She made that up. Probably she had a glimmer of suspicion toward Courtenay, and did anything she could to make it seem somebody else.”
“Then she hired this visionary, and that brought about the very revelation she didn’t want!”