“Ridiculous!” he declared coolly. “Your information must be capable of some other explanation. What does it consist of?”
“It purports to be the statement of an eyewitness,” French returned, continuing slowly: “It mentions—among other things—it mentions—a cricket bat.”
Again Philpot’s start indicated that the shot had told, but he answered steadily:—
“A cricket bat? I don’t follow. What has a cricket bat to do with it?”
“Everything,” French said grimly: “if the information received is correct, of course.”
Philpot turned and faced him.
“Look here,” he said harshly, “will you say right out what you mean and be done with it? Are you accusing me of murdering my wife with a cricket bat, or what are you trying to get at?”
“I’ll tell you,” French rejoined. “The statement is that you arranged the—‘accident’—which befell your wife. The ‘accident,’ however, did not kill her, as you hoped and intended, and you then struck her on the temple with a cricket bat, which did kill her. That, I say, is the statement. I have just been to Kintilloch and have been making inquiries. Now, Dr. Philpot, when I mentioned the cricket bat you started. You therefore realised its significance. Do you care to give me an explanation or would you prefer to reserve your statement until you have consulted a solicitor?”
Dr. Philpot grew still paler as he sat silent, lost in thought.
“Do you mean that you will arrest me if I don’t answer your questions?”