This was the Scollays’ story and I think we all believed that in the main it was true. In fact, since then it has stood the test of all the evidence that could be got to check it. At the same time it seemed pretty clear that their greed had made them blinder than anyone without a strong monetary interest could possibly have been. For fear of losing their little gold mine they had shut their eyes when people of average common sense would have opened them pretty wide. Our questions convicted them of this much, and at the end Whiteclett said emphatically that the two Peters must depart that night with him for further examination, if for nothing more.
“I’ll leave you here with them, sir, for a moment, while I have a look at the other prisoner,” he said quickly before our uncle could begin to issue the commands that we knew were coming, and with a sign to Jean and myself, hurried out.
We were at his heels and followed him to the barn. There Jock was still lying bound with the doctor sitting over him.
“Has he said anything to you?” asked my cousin when he had called the doctor aside.
Dr. Rendall smiled under his grey moustache.
“He offered me £200 in gold to be paid on the nail if I would let him loose. We must have a dig for that money tomorrow, Whiteclett.”
“Anything else?”
“Not a word after I had refused, and it’s my belief you’ll never get another word out of the man between now and his execution.”
“He seems that sort,” my cousin agreed. “And now, doctor, you and I will carry him into the house and keep Sir Francis company. The three of us will have an eye on all the prisoners then, till I can get some fellows up from the drifter to escort them. Do you mind going down to the boat, Roger, and sending up a party? You can find your way in the dark?”
“I’ll make a shift to.”
“Perhaps if Miss Rendall is going home she might put you on the right road,” he suggested.
“Of course I will!” said Jean.
As I left him, Jack pressed my hand and whispered,
“Never say again I’m not tactful, Roger! Congratulations, old chap, you’ve brought off a triple event if I’m not mistaken!”
“Triple?”
“That’s one,” he said pointing to our prisoner, “Uncle Francis is another, and I’ll bet you sixpence I’m right about the third as soon as you shave that filthy beard. Get off with you now and don’t keep a lady waiting!”
XVIII
The Frosty Road
Sometimes we walked and sometimes we trotted in step side by side, her arm through mine, where I had persuaded it to venture, and where it thrilled me by remaining. Personally I was not in the least anxious to bring our errand to an early end, but Jean was fired with zeal to astonish my relations by the speed with which we brought reinforcements, and so, trot and walk, we hurried down the frosted road through that black March night, talking, talking, almost every step of the way.
It was she who began as soon as we were clear of the farm.
“Are your uncle and Captain Whiteclett going back tonight?” she asked anxiously, and when I said I didn’t know, she cried, “Well then I must come back and see them in case they go. There has been no time to explain and they must be told that it was simply my stupidity that prevented you from catching Jock sooner!”
“Your—what?” I exclaimed.
“Yes, I ought to have seen that you didn’t know he wasn’t one of the family!” she insisted. “And that was one of the reasons why I went and interfered again when I’d vowed I wouldn’t. I thought if you didn’t suspect him, perhaps I was wrong, and if I had been, you’d never have trusted my ‘guesses’ again; so I wanted to get some proof to show you. But all the credit is really yours.”
Our debate on this point was too one-sided to be worth recording. And yet though my arguments were irresistible, she would persist—and persists to this day—that somehow or other I unmasked Jock the spy.
“Well, let’s leave it at that,” I said at last. “Disguised as Miss Rendall, alone I did it! And now tell me what made you suspect the man?”
“It was only when you told me about meeting him by the cliffs on the day of the murder that I suddenly thought of Bolton’s discovery and then I saw that he must have meant Jock. At least I guessed, but I knew it would seem the wildest idea until there was a little more proof, and so I determined to make a few enquiries and then tell you at once if there seemed to be anything in my idea. So next morning I went to the Scollays and paid them a friendly visit and began talking about Jock and his habits and movements, and I found he had disappeared for a good part of that day when Bolton was murdered. I also found he was often out at nights, and that he kept that locked box in the barn.”
“So you felt sure?”
“I would have if you hadn’t made me rather less confident about my guesses. Still, I’d have told you next morning, only when you showed me that pocketbook you seemed so positive that you quite shook me. And then I determined to go myself and break into the box and see if I could find some proof.”
“That’s the one thing I can’t quite forgive you for; running all that risk by yourself!”
“But that was just the point! I had somehow got it into my head that since I had found you out, perhaps he had too, and
