"How can you prove that?"
"Very easily." Spruce rose from his chair, and going to the window beckoned in the page. "Come here, I want you!" he cried.
Peter started and seemed very much inclined to run away. But after a pause he braced up his courage and entered the house. Shortly he was standing before the three men, twisting his cap and looking very nervous. His likeness to his town brother was more apparent than ever, and Hench winced to think how Bottles had betrayed him. He had always believed that he could trust the boy to the uttermost.
"Peter," said Spruce, sitting down again and enjoying his position of dictator, "you must tell this gentleman what you told me."
"If Simon wishes me to," blurted out Peter.
"He does wish you. I brought you that letter from Simon telling you to do whatever I asked you. Isn't that so?"
"Yes, sir." Peter flushed and quivered, and wriggled in a most uneasy way. "Well, then, tell them what you told me about Madame Alpenny coming to Cookley on the night when Squire Evans was murdered."
"Simon sent me a telegram telling me to watch for her," said Peter, speaking to the three generally. "And as I knew how she was dressed I easily did so, even though she wore a veil."
"How did you know her dress?" asked Hench sharply.
"Well, sir, when Simon came down here for his holiday he told me as he'd follered Madame Alpenny, who was up to some game. I met him then at the station, when he told me, and he follered her to the Grange. I follered him and hid in Parley Wood outside because Simon told me to. He watched at the gate. She saw the Squire and then came out, and after passing Simon she went into the wood follering the path to the Gipsy Stile."