"Wait till you're asked," said Vane tartly. "Good Lord, the idea of your protecting any one; unless," he added significantly, "it is Madame Alpenny."
"What do you mean by that?" asked the Nut, visibly discomposed.
"Oh, I think you know quite well what I mean, Spruce. You accuse Hench here of murdering his uncle?"
"Yes, I do. And I'll tell the police as much if he doesn't pay my price. The police would give a good deal to find the tramp who asked the way to the Gipsy Stile on the night of the first of July."
"How can you prove that Hench is the tramp?"
"By his own admission."
"And if he does not make that admission in open court?"
"Then I'll leave it to the barmaid at the Bull Inn. She cannot describe our friend's appearance very well, as she is stupid and the tap-room was badly lighted when she saw him. But she declares that she would know his voice. Mr. Owain Hench would then have to prove what he was doing on the night in question, and I don't think that would be easy."
"It certainly would not be easy," said Hench coolly. "I have admitted that you can make out a very good case for the prosecution. All the same you are perfectly aware that I am innocent."
"What makes you say that?" asked Spruce quickly and--as Vane thought--in a somewhat anxious manner.