She shook her head. "He was already trying to buy the island. I think he must have seen in the paper that Uncle Philip had been let out of prison."
I suddenly remembered what Bascomb had told me the night we talked together in the hall.
"You're right, Christine," I said. "That's what happened beyond a doubt, and I don't wonder he got the wind up. It must have been rather like reading one's own death-warrant."
"I hope it was," she said mercilessly. "I should like to be sure that he suffered before he died. When I think of the way he escaped us I sometimes feel that there's no justice in the world."
"But surely you knew he was dead before you started from Brazil?" I interrupted. "Your friend da Silva had plenty of time to write to you."
"We never heard from da Silva again," she said. "Three weeks after he sent his first letter he was killed in that big railway accident at Croydon. Until you spoke to me on the boat we both believed that Gardiner was alive."
"Good Lord!" I exclaimed. "No wonder you were a bit flabbergasted."
"It was the thought of Uncle Philip that upset me most. You see, it was impossible for me to tell him then, and I felt certain that he would never get over the shock and disappointment when he found out for himself."
"But how about you?" I asked curiously. "Wasn't it rather a relief to know that you were too late? You can't take the law into your own hands in this country without paying for it pretty heavily."
"Do you suppose that mattered?" she demanded. "Do you think I cared what happened to me as long as Gardiner was punished? Why, rather than see him escape I would have killed him myself!"