The inspector said nothing, but followed his superior officer back into the other room.
“Well, Mr. Thomas,” said the superintendent, “I shall certainly offer no opposition to your client’s release. Will you take the necessary steps on your side?”
Thomas said that he would, and the superintendent added that, in that case, there should be neither difficulty nor delay. Only formal evidence of arrest had been offered before the magistrate, and they might now consider the charge as definitely dropped.
Joan began to thank him; but he stopped her.
“It is not a matter for thanks,” he said. “We appear to have arrested the wrong man, and the need for apologies, if it exists, is on our side. You will, however, agree that appearances were strongly against Mr. Brooklyn, and that we could hardly have taken any other course. Indeed, it seems clear that whoever did commit the murder, or murders, must have deliberately planned to throw suspicion on your stepfather. That, I think, furnishes an important clue.”
“But I suppose you have now no idea at all who the murderer was?”
“It is hardly fair to ask me that question, Miss Cowper,” said the superintendent, smiling. “You come here, and knock the police theory into smithereens, and then you ask us if we have another theory ready-made. No. We have not a theory, but we do possess certain very important clues.”
At this point Thomas had a word to say. “It is just possible that I may be able to help you there. In preparing for the defence of my client, I had, of course, to consider who the criminal, or criminals, might be, and to make certain inquiries. I lighted on certain information which you may find useful. I am not likely to need it now; but I will gladly make you a present of it for what it is worth.”
“What is your information?”
“I believe you have been watching certain of the servants at Liskeard House—Morgan, I mean, and the butler, Winter.”
The superintendent glanced at Inspector Blaikie, who nodded.
“You may, or may not, have discovered that the man Winter had a very strong personal cause of quarrel with Mr. Prinsep; quite enough, I think, to be the motive of a serious crime.”
The superintendent again looked towards Inspector Blaikie, who very slightly shook his head. Then he said to Thomas, “I think you had better tell us all you know.”
“Well, to begin with, the butler had a violent quarrel with Mr. Prinsep a few days before the murder, and was practically given notice to leave. That can be proved by the evidence of the maidservants and of Morgan.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” said Joan, “and what’s more, I don’t believe it. Winter is a very old and trusted family servant. I am sure Mr. Prinsep would not have given him notice.”
“The maids say that the notice was not quite definite, and that Winter was not sure whether he would have to go or not. He spoke to Morgan about it. But the evidence as to the quarrel is quite decisive.”
“I think it’s horrible,” said Joan. “I’m every bit as sure that Winter had nothing to do with it as I am about my stepfather. And what if they did have a quarrel? John—Mr. Prinsep, I mean—was always hot-tempered.”
“I have not yet told the inspector what the quarrel was about. It was about the girl Winter was engaged to—a girl down at Fittleworth—the head gardener’s daughter, I believe. I understand that Mr. Prinsep had some relations with her, and Winter objected.”
At this Joan suddenly went red all over; but she said nothing. The superintendent, who was watching her, said very quietly, “Do you know this girl, Miss Cowper, and can you throw any light on the incident? I am sorry to ask; but—” he paused for her answer.
“Of course I know the girl well; but I would rather not speak of it. I had no idea that she was to be married to Winter.”
“Very well, Miss Cowper. I see that you do know, and that there is some truth in the story. Can you say that there is not?”
“I prefer not to say anything.”
“That will do. I see your point, Mr. Thomas. This certainly provides what we have been seeking—a possible motive for Mr. Prinsep’s murder. But, of course, it is merely a possible indication. There is no evidence against Winter, as far as I am aware.”
“That, Mr. Superintendent, is entirely your business. I merely gave you what information I had gathered. Tracking down the criminal is fortunately no concern of mine.”
“Quite so. And that is the whole of your information?”
“Yes. Apart from that I know no more than you know already.”
“Then I can only thank you for the help you have given; and assure you that everything possible shall be done to expedite your client’s release. And, by the way, you had better say nothing to anyone else of what you have just told me.” And thereupon, with the skill born of long practice, the superintendent bowed his visitors out of the room. To Inspector Blaikie he spoke a word, asking him to remain for a few minutes’ discussion.
Joan’s indignation burst forth as soon as she was outside the building. She was particularly angry with Thomas.
“I call it abominable. We have just succeeded in clearing one innocent man, whom an hour or two ago you believed to be guilty: and now you are wantonly throwing suspicion on someone else. What business is it of yours? I know Winter had nothing to do with it.”
“That is all very well, Miss Cowper; but it was my duty to tell the police, and, moreover, by doing so, I probably speeded up Mr. Brooklyn’s release by at least twenty-four hours. It is always wise to have the police on your side—when you can.”
“If it was your
