Van Zwieten read the note and frowned again. "Yes, I will go after luncheon," he said. "In the meantime I will see Captain Burton, I think; oh, yes, I think I shall come to terms with that young gentleman. Till luncheon, Miss Scarse," and, bowing with a mocking smile, he stepped out of the window, leaving Brenda puzzled and uneasy.
Meanwhile, Harold was talking with Inspector Woke at the inn. He had found that official waiting for him on his return from the cottage, and had at once consented to his request for a private conversation. He had no idea that Woke suspected him in any way, and answered his questions with the utmost frankness.
"I went to the Rectory last night to see Mr. Slocum, who is an old friend of mine," he said, "and left here about eight o'clock. It was shortly after nine when I returned."
"At what time did you arrive here?" asked Woke, watching his companion's face.
"About ten o'clock."
"Oh! and you left the Rectory at nine. Did it take you an hour to walk a quarter of a mile?"
Captain Burton stared, and his dark face flushed. "I don't know why you wish me to answer you so precisely," he said haughtily; "but it so happened that I was caught in the storm, and stood under a tree for some time."
"The storm again," murmured Woke, rubbing his chin. "Lady Jenny Malet and your brother were both caught in the storm."
"I know that," retorted Burton, impatiently. "Lady Jenny was coming to the Rectory to see me on business. This morning I learned that she was caught in the storm and turned back. My brother sprained his foot. I know all this. Well?"
"Mr. Malet was murdered at half-past nine."