"I can tell you," said Robert Carr. "Mr. and Mrs. Dundyke went to Geneva the middle of July, and this must have happened about the second week in August."
Benjamin Carr poured himself out a glass of wine as he listened. He was growing cool and collected again.
"Ah, I thought I could not have been there. I went to Geneva the latter part of June. I and a fellow were taking a walking tour together. We stayed there a few days, and left it for Savoy the first week in July. I think I did write to Valentine while I was there. All these people, that you speak of, must have arrived afterwards."
"Then did you not see this Mr. Hardcastle, Ben?" asked his sister.
"I tell you, no! I never saw or heard of him in my life."
"Then why need you have flown out so?"
"Well, one does not like to be compared to a—murderer. Some of you had been calling him one."
No more was said. But the hilarity (if there had been any) of the meeting was taken away, and Robert Carr rose to leave. He had a little business to do in Westerbury yet, he said, and must go back that night to London. The squire was the only one who showed courtesy in the farewell. Benjamin was sullenly resentful still; Mrs. Lewis haughty and indifferent.
"Is he quite in his right mind?" Robert Carr asked of Mr. Arkell, as they drove out of the avenue.
"Who?—Benjamin Carr? Oh yes, he is right enough. He is as sharp as a needle."