"She put Gheena up to everything," pattered Psyche, "to keep suspicion away from herself."
"And Gheena suspected Basil, and Basil suspected the Professor, and they all ran round in rings," said Darby smilingly, surprised to find that he could smile.
"Gheena?" asked Miss Delorme.
Darby replied steadily that Gheena was looking after Mr. Stafford, and was, in fact, going to look after him for the rest of her life.
Psyche's small face grew peaked and hard. She looked at Darby.
"You'll go in to congratulate her," he said quietly. "I was never really in the hunt, you know. It was just a play for me."
"I won't," said Psyche. "I can't. Because—she has made you unhappy!" seemed to almost float back across the garden full of violets, as Miss Delorme ran away back to Castle Freyne.
Later, Darby was able to sit listening to Basil talking, and almost wonder why his pain was not deeper.
Basil Stafford told, laughing at it now, how he had tracked and watched the old Professor over slippery rocks and on the sands and along the cliffs. Also how that it was quite certain that the Guinanes had knocked down Nat Leary when he came close to them unexpectedly. And then put him upon the shale cliff to slip over or no as Providence ordained. In fact, Guinane had confessed to it.
"Spying was bad enough," grunted Basil, "but to"—he looked at Gheena jealously—"dozens of times," he burst out, "before everyone's eyes."