"And, of course," said Spruce smoothly, "he was following Madame, who also knew the appointed meeting place. Well, Simon?"
"She didn't stay at the stile, but hid in the wood. I hid near her and kept my eyes on her, as there was plenty of light."
"Of course. It was not late and the Gipsy Stile is in a clearing," explained the Nut, waving his hand. "Go on, boy."
"After a long time--I couldn't say how long, as I hadn't a watch--the old cove came to the stile. Madame Alpenny came to meet him and talked to him for a time, and----"
"Did she raise her veil?" asked Hench quickly.
"No, sir. She spoke for a few minutes, and I could see as she'd something in her right hand. What it was I don't know. Then she suddenly lifted her arm and stabbed the old gentleman, who fell without a cry. As soon as she made sure he was dead, she cut. My brother saw her go through the churchyard."
Vane nodded. "On her way to the station. I remember. Then you came out of the wood, to meet your brother near the church, and made him swear not to say a single word."
"What else could I do, sir?" protested Bottles, distressed. "I might have got into a row with the police. That is why I said nothing."
"Very wise of you," said Spruce approvingly, then turned to the others. "Well, gentlemen, I think the case is clear. Madame Alpenny murdered Squire Evans, and her guilt is proved by Simon here, who saw the crime committed, and by Peter, who saw her in the vicinity, even though she swears that she was at Hampstead. What more proof do you want?"
"None," said Hench calmly. "Undoubtedly my uncle was murdered by--some one dressed as Madame Alpenny!"