The tree to which Inspector Chippenfield referred was a solitary chestnut-tree, which grew close to the house a little distance from the main entrance, and reached to a height of about forty feet. Its branches were entirely bare of leaves, for the autumn frosts and winds had swept the foliage away.
Rolfe, who had been watching Crewe's manoeuvres curiously, walked up to them with the tape in his hand. He glanced at the library window on the first floor as he reached them.
"Kemp could have seen the library window if he had stood here," he said. "I should say that if the blind were up it would be possible to see right into the room."
"What do you say, Chippenfield?" asked Crewe, turning to that officer.
Inspector Chippenfield had taken his stand stolidly on the centre path of the Italian garden, directly in front of the window of the library.
"I say Kemp is a liar," he replied, knocking the ash off his cigar. "A d——d liar," he added emphatically. "I don't believe he was here at all that night."
"But if he was here, do you think he saw Sir Horace leaning out of the window?"
"I don't see what was to prevent him," was the reply. "But my point is that he was a liar and that he wasn't here at all."
"And you, Rolfe—do you think Kemp could have seen Sir Horace leaning out of the window if he had been here?"
"I should say so," remarked Rolfe, in a somewhat puzzled tone.