“I was over by the gate-house,” said Bob Cullen, “but I wasn’t pulling the winch. I was waiting for Lib to come out again. I was watching the end of the House all the time until the lights flared up in the Hall. I’ll take my oath, I will, that nobody went round the corner after Mr. Bannerlee.”
Doctor Aire objected. “But after the chandelier was lit—when that part of the House and the lawn outside the windows was bright—you might have overlooked some shadow slipping along the wall further south.”
Yet this explanation satisfied me no more than it seemed to quell Bob himself.
“Look here,” Crofts suddenly roared. “Perhaps he—” He flung out an arm toward the dead man.
“What do you mean?”
“He—himself—”
“This placard was his doing, you think? Impossible!”
“Why not? There was no one else here. That one in his room this morning: he took it mighty calmly.”
“Sean was not a child, or a fool,” said Miss Lebetwood coldly.
“Who lit the chandelier?” I asked.