"Mrs. Beatson?"
"Well, why not she as well as another? She had much to gain by possessing the will, and the will was in her possession last night. But for the chance of our stumbling across her when she went to unearth it, we would never have known that."
"I can't think that Mrs. Beatson, bad as she is, would commit a murder," mused the Squire reflectively. "After all, if she had the will on the night Leigh was got rid of, and committed the crime, why should she bury it?"
"My dear fellow, that is where the woman's artfulness comes in," said Carrington quickly. "She had to give some reason for possessing the will. By hiding it in a hole, and then writing to herself that anonymous letter saying where it was to be found, she does away with all suspicion against her."
"Not in your mind apparently," said Hendle, dryly.
"Of course not. But a long course of criminal law has opened my eyes to the habits of the animals. I may be unduly suspicious, I grant you, still the fact remains that the story Mrs. Beatson told us last night is too thin. Granting that the woman is innocent, why should the real criminal tell her where to find that which he risked his life to obtain?"
"It does seem strange. And yet----"
"Oh, you are full of scruples, Hendle!" cried the barrister pettishly. "What is Mrs. Beatson to you that you should defend her so warmly?"
"She is a woman, and I have a great respect for women."
Carrington made a grimace. "You answer like a raw boy. My experience of the sex has not led me to respect any single one."