Dale nodded his head slowly.
‘I admit that too,’ he said sorrowfully. ‘I most bitterly regret it, but I must admit it. I do not want to make any excuses for that, but here again the facts are not quite so black as they look. When I had been out there about thirty years I got a longing for the old country. I had made a little money in the States, and I left my job and came over to England. I was afraid to go back to Gateshead, so I looked around and took that cottage in Devonshire. Then one day in London I met Ponson—I didn’t know he had a handle to his name then. He recognised me, and there was a scene. I thought he would have killed me in the street. Then I got him into a bar, and we took a private room and had it out. I understood he had a right to have a down on me for deserting Ethel, but at first I couldn’t understand why he was so absolutely mad. Then I learnt. I hadn’t known what had happened to Ethel, for I was too much afraid of arousing suspicion as to who I was, to go back to Gateshead or make any inquiries. He threatened me so wildly I got afraid for my life, and then I saw how I could turn the tables on him. I told him that so far from me being in his power, he was in mine. I told him I would make the affair public myself, and that if I could be punished I would take it, and he could have the scandal. He blustered at first, then gradually he saw his position, and then he crawled. He offered to make the thing a business proposition. He would pay for my silence. He pressed his offer on me, and I accepted it at last. And I have at least kept my word. Not a whisper of the affair has passed my lips. But I admit taking the money. I was very hard up, and it meant a lot to me. You don’t understand, gentlemen, how much a few pounds means to a poor man. And with all his thousands he didn’t miss it. Not any more than you would miss a penny if you dropped it. I took it and I admit I pressed him for more.’
‘Was that what you went to the Luce Manor boathouse for on the night of the murder?’
Chief Inspector Edgar moved suddenly.
‘Come, Tanner, that won’t do,’ he advised, and then to Dale: ‘You needn’t answer that unless you like.’
Dale hesitated. To the others it seemed as if he was on the verge of a confession. Then he bowed to Edgar.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I had perhaps better consult my solicitor first.’
Tanner looked annoyed, but he controlled himself and again addressed the prisoner.
‘Then you don’t wish to make any statement?’
‘No. Not at present, at any rate.’