"Ah"--Mrs. Perage kilted up her dress and folded her hands on her knees--"a very difficult question to answer. But Madame Alpenny didn't, although you seem to have some idea that she is the guilty person."
"She knew my uncle and all about the disposal of the property through the confidence made to her by my father twenty years ago."
"That doesn't prove that she murdered Madoc. She wanted you to marry her daughter undoubtedly after she laid hold of the clue which led her to learn that you were likely to inherit ten thousand a year. But why should she put her neck in a noose?"
"She might have wished me to get possession of the property at once, and have murdered my uncle in the hope that I would go to the spot and then run the risk of being arrested. I believe myself that it was all a plot to get me under her thumb. I did go to the rendezvous and I _am implicated. Well?"
Mrs. Perage rubbed her nose again. "The devil's in it for trouble," she muttered. "Perhaps I am premature in assuming that this woman is innocent, but it seems incredible that she should run such a risk. I shall have to see her first before I make up my mind. She's clever."
"In a foxy sort of way."
"Hum! The fox doesn't do things on a big scale in the way of killing."
Hench answered flippantly, as the conversation was getting on his nerves. "What about hen-roost massacres?"
Mrs. Perage rose, and was about to rebuke him when she saw, as Gwen had seen earlier, the white pinched look on his face. "You're over-wrought, my friend. I want you to promise me two things."
"Yes. What are they?" asked the young man wearily.