"He is!" said Bottles with relish. "And he gave back the things to mother saying as the amateur theatricals had been quite a success."
"As he hoped to make two thousand a year, I presume they were!" said Vane in a cruel voice. "Well, Spruce, what have you to say before being arrested?"
"Arrested!" Spruce gave a scream like a woman, and he dropped limply into his chair, white-faced and aghast. "What for?"
"For the murder of Squire Evans."
"No! No!" He thrust out his hands as if warding off a blow. "I did not kill him. You cannot bring the crime home to me."
"The evidence you have heard brings the crime home to you only too positively," said Hench, with a certain pity in his voice, for the sudden collapse of the man was dreadful. "Peter can prove that you were mixed up in the matter, and Mrs. Jedd can prove that you borrowed the clothes, having the orange-spotted dress made after the style of that worn by Madame Alpenny. And Simon can prove the murder. He saw you kill the man."
"No! No! No!"
"May I die if I didn't!" swore Bottles, who was looking nervous, for the scene shook him considerably, since he was only a boy.
"It was a mean, sordid murder, committed for the sake of gain," said Vane.
"Don't kick the man when he is down, Jim," said Hench, pityingly.