"If Henry Underwood is at the bottom of all these tricks, then Dr. Underwood isn't," said Ralston quickly. "We all know that the doctor and Henry are not on very good terms. Just what the trouble is between them, or how deep it goes, we don't know, but it may be that Henry is bitter enough against his father to try to turn suspicion against him in this way, and if he did this, he did the other things. They all hang together. What do you think, Mr. Burton?"
"I agree with you that they all seem to hang together."
"But not that Henry would seem to be the responsible person?"
"As to that, I am hardly in a position to express an opinion," he said quietly. He had been examining the curiously knotted cord that had been wound about the unfortunate Mr. Hadley.
The knots rather than the cord itself were what attracted his attention. They were peculiarly intricate,--the knots of a practiced weaver. What was more, they had the same peculiar twist that the woven withes of lilac had had. Probably it was a knot familiar to sailors and weavers, but certainly not one man in a thousand could make it so neatly, so deftly, so exactly. The police was certainly incredibly stupid not to take note of so peculiar and distinguishing a mark, but at this moment it was not his role to offer any suggestions.
"Do you wish me to arrest Henry Underwood?" asked the policeman. "It's up to you to say, Mr. Hadley."
"You won't tell him that I accused him?"
"I won't tell him anything! I only want to know if you think that there is a reasonable guess that he did this night's work. If you will say that, I'll arrest him on suspicion. I don't want to get myself into trouble by arresting a man if you are going to back down afterwards and say you have no charge to bring against him."
"I'll bring the charge, if Mr. Hadley won't," said Selby sharply. "I demand his arrest."
"That's enough," said the policeman, slipping quietly from the room.