"And he left you at—"
"About five minutes past two."
"And how long would it take a man, walking quickly, to get back to Riddlesdale Lodge?"
"Oh, wellnigh an hour. It's rough walking, and a steep bank up and down to the beck."
"You mustn't let the other counsel upset you on those points, Mrs. Grimethorpe, because they will try to prove that he had time to kill Cathcart either before he started or after he returned, and by admitting that the Duke had something in his life that he wanted kept secret we shall be supplying the very thing the prosecution lack—a motive for murdering anyone who might have found him out."
There was a stricken silence.
"If I may ask, madam," said Sir Impey, "has any person any suspicion?"
"My husband guessed," she answered hoarsely. "I am sure of it. He has always known. But he couldn't prove it. That very night—"
"What night?"
"The night of the murder—he laid a trap for me. He came back from Stapley in the night, hoping to catch us and do murder. But he drank too much before he started, and spent the night in the ditch, or it might be Gerald's death you'd be inquiring into, and mine, as well as the other."