"You ought to know," Locke responded grimly. "I imagine it was you who went through my papers that night in my cabin."
"That is the third time," suggested Captain Francis Newcombe, "that you have said 'imagine.'"
"Yes." Locke smiled without humour. "I happen to know, however, that from the moment of your arrival here Mr. Marlin became more and more obsessed with the belief that he was being watched and followed. I know from his own statement that he rather cunningly laid a false trail—to an old hut in the woods behind the house, wasn't it, Newcombe? And it is rather conclusive evidence, I should say, that the man who followed that trail was the man who was watching Mr. Marlin. I saw you coming from that direction at three o'clock this morning. You were unsuccessful, of course; but you are none the less, as I said before, morally responsible for Mr. Marlin's death."
Captain Francis Newcombe leaned back in his chair, and laughed softly, insolently, contemptuously.
"As I understand the indictment," he said coolly, "it is to the effect that I left London for the purpose of coming here and stealing some money that I knew a madman had hidden. The evidence against me is from beginning to end purely circumstantial, and most of it is admittedly imaginative. The one 'damning' fact adduced is that I was seen coming from somewhere at three o'clock this morning. This is a bit thick, Locke—coming from you!" His voice was beginning to lose its suavity. "You don't imagine, do you, that any such 'case' as that would hold water for an instant in any court of law?"
"No," said Locke quietly; "I know it wouldn't. I quite agree with you there."
Captain Francis Newcombe's face for an instant held a look of puzzlement, as though he had not heard aright—then it stiffened into ugly menace.
"I think you need a lesson!" He spoke from between set lips. "This is no longer merely ridiculous, or absurd, or cracked-brained. It is monstrous!"
"Again I agree with you." Locke's voice was low now, rasping his words. "It is so monstrous that, strong as the circumstantial evidence against you is, I would not have been able to credit it had I not had a basis for belief that permitted of no denial. I know you for exactly what you are. I know that you are a criminal, that you are one by profession, that you have no other profession, that you are without conscience, inhuman, ruthless, a fiend who would do honour to hell itself."
"By God!" Captain Francis Newcombe with livid face surged up from the chair to his feet.