On concluding the recital of his movements on the night of the twenty-first of June, Hersham looked anxiously at Fanks to see what the detective thought of the matter. The latter made no immediate comment, whereupon the journalist, impatient of the silence, made the first observation.
"I have told you all," he said; "now what is your opinion?"
"Let me think for a minute or two," replied Fanks, holding up his hand. "I must consider."
Thereupon he thrust his hands into his pockets and strolled to the window, where he stood looking absently at the adjacent chimney-pots. Hersham eyed him with continued anxiety, but he did not dare to interrupt, so that Fanks had ample time to reflect over the strange story which had been related to him.
He had heard the main facts of it before from Berry Jawkins, and these corresponded entirely with the narrative of the journalist. Still, the additional evidence concerning Anne Colmer disquieted Fanks not a little. Her behaviour was strange, to say the least of it, and far more suspicious than that of Hersham. Why had she sent a telegram to withdraw her lover from London at the very time of the committal of the crime? And why had she--so to speak--nullified that telegram by going herself to town almost immediately after she had despatched it. Such conduct was decidedly suspicious; and it looked as though she was implicated in the matter in some underhand way. Why had she behaved in so mysterious a fashion, and why had she refused to reveal her reason for so acting to Hersham?
So far, so good; but there remained a greater mystery. It was Anne Colmer herself who had instructed Hersham to confess to Fanks; yet she must have known that her very extraordinary conduct would need explanation. But would she explain? Fanks thought not. He recalled his conversation with her; how she had refused to speak lest her evidence--whatever it was--should be detrimental to an innocent person. Clearly that innocent person could not be Hersham, for he had established his innocence in the eyes of the detective. Then if the person in question was not Hersham, who could he--or she--be? Mrs. Colmer, Dr. Binjoy, Anne, or Caesar, the missing negro?
Not the first, thought Fanks, decidedly not the first, for Mrs. Colmer was confined to her room by paralysis, and could not take an active part in the business. Scarcely the second, for Anne could have no reason to screen the doctor--at least no reason that Fanks could even guess at. If the third--and seeing that Mrs. Boazoph was her aunt it might be so--the motive might be that Anne desired aid to carry out a scheme of revenge against the destroyer of her sister. As to Caesar, Fanks had quite settled in his own mind that the negro was innocent, and that his personality was being made use of merely to screen the chief actor or actors in the tragedy.
The result of Fank's meditations therefore resulted in his having an increased suspicion of Mrs. Boazoph. Her behaviour at the time of the discovery of the murder, her visit to Mere Hall, and her fainting at the mention that Hersham was the probable criminal--all these things were suspicious; and now the probable visit of Anne Colmer to her aunt--although such visit was not yet proved--clinched the matter. All the interest of Fanks now centred in Mrs. Boazoph; and he addressed himself again to Hersham in the hope of learning something tangible, likely to connect her more intimately with her niece either in London or at Taxton-on-Thames. He was right to act in this way; an indefinable instinct had placed him on the right path.
"I wish you had told me of this before," he said to Hersham, as he resumed his seat. "It would have saved me a lot of trouble."
"I did not wish to tell you. I was afraid to speak lest I should inculpate myself. I am sure my movements on that fatal night must appear very suspicious to you. What is your opinion of me now?"