“We knew it because Francis told us so. It was not in the Morning Post, from which he said he had learned the tidings, nor in any other paper that I can discover. ‘Stabbed to death’ was the phrase he used. I marked it particularly.”
“Good God, it was what anyone might have said, assuming it had been so!”
“But it happens to have been exactly true. You may recall that he spoke of De Castres’s body having been left under a bush. That was also true, but it was nowhere stated in the newspapers.”
John sank into a chair, repeating in a dazed voice, “Good God!”
Elinor said, “Do you mean to imply—can you possibly mean—that it was Mr. Cheviot who murdered that unfortunate young Frenchman?”
“I think so. I have suspected it all along, but some proof was needed.”
“Ned, it’s not possible!” John exclaimed. “De Castres was a friend of his! That is too well known to admit of question!”
“I don’t question it. I told you that Francis Cheviot was a very dangerous man. I have been aware of that these many years. I do not know what he would stop at—very little, I dare say.”
“Damme, I like the fellow no better than you do, but you make him out to be villainous beyond belief!”
“Villainous, perhaps, but not, I think, the villain of this plot. That, if I am not much mistaken, is Bedlington.”