"Yes, and men of education also. I tell you, Mr. Drek, that my friend did not fire that shot."
"Then who did? Yourself?"
"No; I am innocent, as I can say now freely. I refused to speak because I thought that my speaking might get Herne into trouble. Now that he has made a public statement--not a confession, mind you--accusing himself of a crime which he did not commit, I think it my duty to tell you what I know. Sit down, please, Mr. Drek, and listen to what I have to say."
Drek did so, in some perplexity, for he did not know what the Vicar could tell him likely to nullify Herne's statement. Only a knowledge of the name of the real assassin could prove Herne's innocence, and the Vicar confessed that he was ignorant of such name. However, the case had become so complicated that Drek was thankful for any story, or confession, or statement, or declaration likely to throw light on its darkness. Therefore he forebore to speak, and with his keen eyes fixed upon Chaskin, he waited patiently to hear what the Vicar had to say. At the present moment Drek's mind was in a state of confusion.
"When Messrs. Mexton and Lovel came to see me last week," explained Chaskin, "I had just parted from my friend. He had lately returned from London, where he had seen a lady called Catinka Poluski."
"I know," said Drek, with a nod; "the violinist. Mexton told me about her."
"Well, it appears that she was in the lane on the night of the murder."
"I know that also, Mr. Chaskin. She saw the corpse, and to inculpate Mr. Herne, so as to get a hold on him for his money, she left a rainbow feather on the spot. Herne knew by that of her presence, and went up to see her. Well, sir, and what did she say?"
"She stated that she saw Herne watching Miss Lester and Lovel; also that he fired a pistol and killed the girl; then he fled."
"Do you believe that, Mr. Chaskin?"