"Then there was the other man, his accomplice, Brown the----"
"Ha!" cried Alan, starting up and pacing the room. "I see, I see!"
"See what?" cried Sophy eagerly.
"How the lancet came to be found in the hut. The Quiet Gentleman stole it."
"Stole it?"
"Of course. Did he not steal the key of the vault from my desk? There was a case of lancets in the same drawer; he took one. Ha! this proves to me that Brown stole the body and murdered Warrender. A clever scoundrel! He stole my lancet to throw suspicion on me." Alan clenched his hands and looked upward. "In God's name, what does this roguery mean?"
It was indeed a perplexing case. They were all in the dark, and such gleams of light as came served only to confuse them the more. Lestrange could not be the Quiet Gentleman, for, as had been proved by Alan, he had landed in England only the week before. Brown was the deus ex machina who could put matters right, and Brown had vanished. He could reappear only at the risk of being charged with murder.
Why had the body been removed? If it were a case of blackmailing, the claim would have been made long since. The police were apparently as much at a loss as Alan himself. And Blair----
"Does Blair know of this accusation?" asked Mr. Thorold suddenly.
"I am certain he does not," answered the Rector emphatically. "In the first place, it was only made to-day. Lestrange, I am sure, wants money, and would come to us before going to the police."