"Oh, all conjecture," returned Mr. Castlemaine, with the air of one suddenly enlightened. "And you come here and accuse me on conjecture? I ought to feel supremely indebted to you, Alfred Dobie."
"What they do say--that is not conjecture--is, that it was you who preceded Basil's son into the Keep."
"Who says it?"
"Basil's son said it, and thought it: it was only that that took him in, poor fellow. The landlord of the inn here, John Bent, saw it and says it."
"But John Bent was mistaken. And you have only his word, remember, for asserting what Basil's son saw or said."
Squire Dobie paused, looking full at his host, as if he could gather by looks whether he was deceiving him or not.
"Was it, or was it not you, who went into the Keep, James Castlemaine?"
"It was not. I have said from the first, I repeat it to you now, that I was not near the Keep that night: unless you call Teague's Hutt near it. As a matter of fact, the Hutt is near it, of course; but we estimate distances relatively----"
"I know how near it is," interrupted Squire Dobie. "I came round that way just now, up the lane; and took sounding of the places."
"Good. I went down to Teague's that night--you have no doubt heard all about the why and the wherefore. I smoked a pipe with Teague while making the arrangements to go for a sail with him on the morrow; and I came straight back again from the Hutt here, getting home at half-past eleven. I hear that Teague says he watched me up the lane: which I am sure I was not conscious of."