"You forget the signal of the red handkerchief, Mr. Herries. With a candle behind it, that would show very plainly. Well, then, this political person got into the bedroom and killed Sir Simon. Afterwards he went out in the morning disguised as his victim."
"Why did he wait until daylight, and run such a risk."
"Because he would have run a bigger risk by leaving immediately he had killed his man. The sailors from the 'Tarabacca' were outside, and if he had fallen into their hands he might have been killed himself. Señora Guzman is not a woman to stick at a trifle."
"Armour, whom they thought was their man, was not killed."
"Quite so, but probably they learned their mistake, and so left the wrong man in the ditch. Then perhaps they returned to watch the inn, hoping that the real man might come out. He evidently saw them waiting, and so remained until he could escape in the morning."
Herries fingered his chin.
"All very feasible," said he wearily, "but why should I have been implicated?"
"Ah! We'll never learn that until we chance upon the assassin."
"And how will we find him?"
"Ah!" Kind shook his head. "You have me there. Señora Guzman knows."