“I think not, and if we hear the purr again we can keep our distance. Something needs to be done, however, before you take the machine apart. We must find the real murderer.”
We gave vent to all kinds of sounds, mainly incredulous.
“Listen! We have not discovered yet the person here who knows Welsh and whom Mr. Bannerlee is shielding.”
I commenced a vain “I haven’t admitted—” but my speech was charged down.
“I can prove you are!” she cried. “Yes, sir! I want to know why you are shielding him, or her. All day long I haven’t got my mind off those matches you wanted so badly after recovering your own copy of the Book. Do you know, it’s my belief you knew you were carrying evidence dangerous to someone, and you wanted to destroy it before you reached the House. I think it was the translation you actually did destroy later on.”
“Look here—” put in Crofts, reaching out a hand. His face might have been that of a man sinking under water for the third time. “Look here—”
“Crofts!” cried Alberta, her eyes bright with agony.
“The parchment and translation were in old Watts’ copy,” Belvoir snapped.
I doubt if she heard them, intent as she was on the molten stream of her thought. “This translation, done off-hand, betrayed someone of us who had a competent knowledge of Welsh and consequently a head-start, at any rate, in knowledge of the cat’s claw.”
“It was in old Watts’ copy,” muttered Belvoir.