“But, Carty,” she exclaimed, “some one did! Who was it?”
Just then Lady Martingale rode up to inquire how Miss Rivers was recovering, and Mr. Carteret mounted and rode away. The hounds were starting off to draw Brinkwater gorse, but he rode in the opposite direction toward Crumpelow Hill. There he found the farmer who had brought them home. Through him he found the boy who had summoned the farmer, and from the boy, as he had hoped, he discovered a clew. And then he fell to wondering why he was so bent upon clearing the matter up. At most it could only put him where he was before the day of the accident. It could not make that drive home real or make what she had said that afternoon her utterance. She would acquit him of prying into her affairs, but beyond that there was nothing to hope. Everything that he had recently learned strengthened his conviction that she was going to marry Wynford. It was a certainty. Nevertheless, from Crumpelow Hill he rode toward the Abbey.
It was nearly four o’clock when Miss Rivers came in. He rose and bowed with a playful, exaggerated ceremony. “I have come,” he began, in a studiedly light key, “because I have solved the mystery.”
“I am glad you have come,” she said.
“It is simple,” he went on. “Another man picked you up, and put you where I found you. Your breathing must have been bad, and he loosened your clothes. Probably the locket had flown open and he shut it. Then he went after a trap. Why he did not come back, I don’t know.”
“But I do,” said Miss Rivers.
He looked at her warily, suspecting a trap for the man’s name. He preferred not to mention that.
“I know,” she went on, “because he has told me. He did come back part way—till he saw that you were with me.”
Mr. Carteret looked at her in surprise.
“More than that,” she went on, “the locket had jarred open and he saw what was in it and closed it. Perhaps that was why he went away. Anyway, after thinking about it, he decided that it was best to tell me. If he had only done so before!”