Maxwell heaved a sigh of relief at the turn things had taken, for if both Mrs. Belk and the curate could prove that Samson had been at home on that fatal night, the young man certainly could not be guilty. Meanwhile, he wanted to get away and think the matter over; for what with the story of Ferrari and the story of Belk, he was quite bewildered.
"So my Samson is innocent," cried Mrs. Belk, triumphantly.
"Yes, and I'm glad to hear it," replied Maxwell, as he went out. "Good-bye, Mrs. Belk, I'm pleased on your account, but sorry on my own."
"Ebbene! but who killed Il----I am talking of Seer Rupert," cried Ferrari, putting on his hat.
Belk shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know," he replied, nonchalantly; "the master had lots of enemies, I reckon."
"Belk," cried Maxwell, overhearing this, "come to The Chequers to-night, I want to speak to you."
"Very well, sir."
"You are not coming up to town with us then, Mr. Maxwell?" said Mrs. Belswin, who was lingering behind.
"No! I wish to ask Belk some questions about Sir Rupert's enemies. From what he says, it appears he had some, and Belk knows them."