For one thing, he concluded that Paynton was Jeringham. The reason for Denis being in his service had been explained by Dick Pental, as the two men were bound together by a common bond of guilt. Tait was inclined to think that Jeringham was innocent, for if he had killed Larcher there would have been no need for Denis to have screened him. On the other hand, circumstantial evidence was so strong against Jeringham that, if Denis had struck the blow, he would be forced to acquiesce in the silence of the real criminal—to become, as it were, an accessory to the crime. Denis could have sworn that Jeringham was guilty, and so placed him in danger of his life. Thus the two men had a hold on one another; Jeringham because circumstances were against him, Denis because he had killed Larcher. The motive for the crime was not difficult to discover after the story told by Mrs. Bezel. Bantry had killed his master as the destroyer of his sister's honor. Under the names of Paynton and Kerry the two men were dwelling together at Thorston in loathed companionship, each afraid to let the other out of his sight. Tait could imagine no more terrible punishment than that enforced comradeship. It reminded him of a similar situation in a novel of Zola's, where husband and wife were equally culpable, equally afraid, and filled with equal hatred the one toward the other.
Still this conclusion, supported as it was by facts, did not explain the attitude of Hilliston. Assuming the guilt of Denis Bantry, the complicity of Jeringham, there appeared to be no reason why Hilliston should protect them at Thorston, and throw obstacles in the way of the truth's discovery. Tait was completely nonplussed and could think of no explanation. And then he remembered Mrs. Bezel's letter, and the mention of Louisa Sinclair. Hilliston, according to Mrs. Bezel, knew this woman, and she knew who had committed the crime. But how could she know unless she had been concealed, like Dick Pental, in the garden on that night? Tait was quite certain that Denis Bantry was guilty, but the hint of Mrs. Bezel threatened to disturb this view; and yet what better evidence was obtainable than that of an eye-witness. Still Tait remembered that Dicky confessed he had not seen the blow struck. What if Louisa Sinclair had? That was the question he asked himself.
Under the circumstances it was necessary to find out who this woman was. Tait did not judge it wise to ask Hilliston, for the simple reason that the lawyer would not admit the truth. There was no obvious reason why he should not, but Tait had sufficient experience of Hilliston's trickery and evasion in the past to know that his admissions were untrustworthy. There only remained for him to search for Louisa Sinclair in Horriston, question her if she were alive, or learn all that he could if she were dead.
And now occurred a coincidence which unwittingly put Tait on the right track. When within half a mile of Horriston he met a clergyman swinging along at a good pace, and in him recognized a former college companion. The recognition and the delight were mutual.
"My dear Brandon, this is indeed a surprise!" exclaimed Tait, holding out his hand. "I had no idea that you were in these parts."
"I have only been vicar here for a year," answered Brandon cordially; "but what are you doing at Horriston, my friend?"
"Oh, I have come down partly on business and partly on pleasure."
"Then dismiss business for the moment, and come to luncheon with me. I am just going to my house. Where are you staying?"
"At the Royal Victoria."
"A dismal place. You must come frequently to see us while you stay here, and we will do what we can to cheer you up. Mrs. Brandon will be delighted to see you."