“I think so too, but she is not in a fit state to be questioned at present, and may not be for some time. The strain has been too much for her. In my opinion she is in for a severe illness.”
“Where is she now?”
“At the station. Of course, I had to take her into custody on a charge of attempting to steal this money. Whether the public prosecutor will go on with the charge or whether he will bring any other charge of a more serious nature against her remains to be seen.”
Marsland, who had abandoned his stone throwing, had strolled back to the porch in time to hear Gillett’s last remarks.
“It is a strange thing to find a girl of her type in love with such a scoundrel,” he said.
“Quite a common thing,” said Detective Gillett, speaking from the experience of the seamy side of life which comes under the attention of Scotland Yard. “There are some women brought up in good surroundings who seem to be attracted irresistibly to scoundrels. You never know what a woman will do. By the by, it is a good thing, Mr. Marsland, that you did not hit him when you fired at him last night. If you had killed him I should have had to arrest you, and the case would have had to go to a jury. Of course, there is no doubt how it would have ended, but it would have been an unpleasant experience for you.”
“I shouldn’t have minded that,” was the young man’s answer.
Gillett regarded this declaration as bravado, and merely continued:
“As it is, you are virtually responsible for his death in frightening him over the cliff, but the law takes no account of that.”
“I should prefer to have shot him,” said Marsland.