"Can't Basson help you, or Mr. Alder, or Mr. Ferris?"
"No, none of the three; they don't know who killed Miss Gilmar, and if it comes to a point, Simon, I don't see why they should know."
"It is queer that the lot of them, including the girl, should have been in Grangebury on the very night of the murder," said Parge, with a musing air.
"It's a coincidence, that's all," retorted Gebb, "and you know very well in our profession there's no end of coincidences, though if you write them in a book people tell you they're impossible. You can't accuse any one of the three of killing the old woman, as they were all in the lecture hall the whole evening. You know all about Ferris, and Miss Wedderburn; well, it couldn't have been them. Mr. Basson was lecturing; it couldn't have been him. Mr. Alder was looking after the money and the house, so as to get plenty of cash in for his friend; so it couldn't have been him. If not them, who is guilty?"
"Well, Dean must be the criminal."
"I don't believe it," replied Gebb, obstinately. "And if he is, he'll not be hanged; for old Nick himself couldn't hunt him out. By the way, Simon, what kind of a man was he to look at--to the naked eye, so to speak?"
"I don't know what he'll be like now," replied Parge, briskly; "but he was uncommonly good-looking in the dock, I can tell you. Just the man to take a woman's fancy: tall, and dark and smiling."
"Any particular mark?" asked Gebb, professionally.
"Well, he wasn't scarred or scratched in any way that I know of," replied Parge, reflectively, "but he had a frown."
"Get along! Every one's got a frown," said Gebb, in a disgusted tone.