"No. Not a single idea of it, Mr. Deland. That I swear," she returned with emphasis. "Those boots are undoubtedly Captain Macdonald's, of that I am sure. And see, as you say, there is the name inside. But they have not been used by him for a long, long time. It was nearly six months ago, I think, that he left them here, after a meet in our grounds, and before Father had found out anything about our—our caring for each other. He stayed the night, Mr. Deland, and Ross lent him some sleeping things, and then one of the men-servants carried his hunting togs over to his place the next day."
"And these boots?"
"Were left behind by mistake. He called for them, but I asked him not to take them away. You see, I—liked to have them here, for silly, sentimental reasons, no doubt. But I told him I loved to see them with the other men's boots—Ross's and Father's and Cyril's and Mr. Tavish's—in our harnessing-room, where the groom, Jarvis, always takes care of them and keeps them oiled, when not in use, to prevent them cracking. And so Angus laughed at me, and said they might stay, as he'd another pair at home—and teased me terribly over my babyishness. It may sound silly to you, Mr. Deland, but it meant a lot to me to see those boots there—belonging—where I belonged. It was like—a peep into the future.... And when the trouble with Father came, I wanted them there more than ever, to keep my heart up. To my knowledge they have never been moved."
"And yet my man Dollops found them under the shrubbery and in this condition this morning—after last night's terrible affair, Miss Duggan," put in Cleek quietly, keen eyes upon her face.
"It certainly looks black for Angus, Mr. Deland," she replied in a frightened voice. "But I'll swear he never used them. I'll swear it in court, if need be."
"How do you know?"
She stopped a moment and sucked in her breath, and then a sudden look of determination came over her face.
"Because," she said steadily, "he was coming to meet me in the grounds last night, as he had come often enough before. We could never see each other in daylight, as Father had forbidden him the house and so we stole our meetings at night, under the old oak tree at the bottom of the first lawn. You can't see it from the house, as that hedge of yew hides it entirely."
"And you saw him last night? You'll swear upon that?"
"I—I—that is—yes, I saw him last night," she replied, with flaming cheeks and upthrown chin. "First Ross, and now Angus! You're cruel, Mr. Deland, cruel as detectives can so often be! I thought you were going to help me—truly—and, instead, you cast suspicions upon the two people I love most dearly in the world! How can I possibly put you upon other clues? Anything to lead you away from such a false and utterly unworthy scent!"