"Fraud!" Carrington laughed aloud and snapped his fingers. "And how do you intend to do that, my good man?"
"Don't call me your good man, confound you!"
"Well, I won't," sneered the barrister; "it is rather a mistake to credit you with any goodness, I admit. You're no more a saint than I am, and would have played the same game had you got the chance. My only regret is that I have not rooked you to the tune of five thousand pounds. And but for the vicar's unexpected appearance I should have done so."
"Not you."
"Oh, yes. You were at the Vicarage on the night of the presumed murder, and I had your opal, which I dropped near the sundial. If I had held my tongue, as I would have done, you would have been hard put to explain your presence there, seeing what John Hendle's will meant to you."
"And you--and you!" shouted Mallien furiously, "how would you have escaped suspicion seeing you came down on that night?"
"Very easily," retorted the barrister in a light and airy tone. "I would have declared that I came down in Hendle's interest to get the will, and arrived at the Vicarage to find you leaving the house after murdering the man."
"Oh!" Mallien rushed forward. "Let me get at him, Rupert. Dog that he is. I want to strangle him."
"And be hanged for the murder of a worthless creature," said Rupert, holding Mallien tightly to prevent his executing his intention. "Leave him to Mr. Leigh. I rather think he knows how to deal with him."
"Oh, do you?" snapped Carrington, wheeling with a contemptuous smile on his dark face, "and what do you propose to do, may I ask?"