“She is in Greenwood by this time,” said Nick.
“I couldn’t have done her—she in New York and me here,” said Macrane, growing bolder as he talked. “She’s been there a week or more.”
“It is useless, Macrane,” said Nick. “We know the whole trick. You were in New York yourself. You laid the game up well, but we know it.
“You knew there was a man in New York who was following Ethel’s sister; you were told you looked like him; you saw him, and you trimmed your whiskers to be exactly like him.”
Nick stopped and looked at Macrane. What he had been saying was purely guesswork, but he saw that he had hit home.
“You called at Mrs. Constant’s home at eight o’clock on the night of the murder, giving the name of Masson. You were told that Mrs. Constant had gone out to the dressmaker’s.
“You knew that wasn’t so—you knew it was Ethel who had gone out, but thereby you found out where she had gone to.
“You went to the dressmaker’s and waited till she came. You tried to speak to her as she went in. Then you went into the coach and waited.
“When she came to enter it she saw you and screamed, but you pulled her in and shut the door.
“The coach drove rapidly up the avenue, and during that drive you shot her, for she had told you that she was done with you forever, and meant to live with her sister.