"Yes! yes! I see that, as Carrington was with me the next day, his presence in the eight o'clock train on the previous night would arouse no suspicion in Tollart's mind. Still, his being at Barship on that night doesn't mean that he killed the vicar."
"Well," said Kit, with a wisdom beyond his years, "I rather think that it is very good evidence against him. You had told him about the will, and he knew what it meant to you. What he said when you kicked him out the other day shows that he wants a large sum of money. He intended perhaps to stun the vicar and get the will, so as to make his terms with you; but the vicar, having heart disease, died straightway. For that reason Mr. Carrington buried the will, and sent an anonymous letter to my mother."
"But Mr. Carrington did not know where the sundial was. How, then, could he find it in the nighttime, hidden as it was among the bushes?"
"Oh, I can't explain everything," said Beatson frankly; "but you must admit, sir, that it is odd Mr. Carrington should have been in Barship on the night of the murder, without saying a word to you. If his intentions had been innocent, he would have come for the night to you."
"True enough, Kit. I wonder where he did spend the night?"
Kit shrugged his shoulders. "You will have to ask him that. I really believe that he is the guilty person."
"But what about that opal in the matrix which belongs to my cousin? It was found by me on the verge of the hole where the will was buried."
"Did you find it?"
"Well, no. It was Carrington who pointed it out glittering among the grasses. I merely picked it up."
"Well," said Kit, with a judicial air, "the person who loses generally manages to find. How do you know that Mr. Carrington didn't drop the opal there when your back was turned?"