His manner was so changed—his eye burned so brightly—the detective gave himself a tap of decided self-gratulation.
“She saw you hurry over the bog, stop at the entrance of the wood, take a look at your watch, and plunge with renewed speed into the forest.”
“It is so. It is so. And, to have seen that, she must have had the aid of a telescope.”
“Then she describes your appearance. She says you had your pants turned up at the ankles, and carried your coat on your left arm.”
“Left arm?”
“Yes.”
“I think I had it on my right.”
“It was on the arm toward her, she declares. If she was in the observatory, it was your left side that she saw.”
“Yes, yes; but the coat was over the other arm. I remember using my left hand in vaulting over the fence when I came up to the house.”
“It is a vital point,” said Mr. Gryce, with a quietness that concealed his real anxiety and chagrin. “If the coat was on the arm toward her, the fact of its being on the right—”
“Wait!” exclaimed Mr. Mansell, with an air of sudden relief. “I recollect now that I changed it from one arm to the other after I vaulted the fence. It was just at the moment I turned to come back to the side door, and, as she does not pretend to have seen me till after I left the door, of course the coat was, as she says, on my left arm.”
“I thought you could explain it,” returned Mr. Gryce, with an air of easy confidence. “But what do you mean when you say that you changed it at the moment you turned to come back to the side door? Didn’t you go at once to the dining-room door from the swamp?”
“No. I had gone to the front door on my former visit, and was going to it this time; but when I got to the corner of the house I saw the tramp coming into the gate, and not wishing to encounter anyone, turned round and came back to the dining-room door.”
“I see. And it was then you heard—”
“What I heard,” completed the prisoner, grimly.
“Mr. Mansell,” said the other, “are you not sufficiently convinced by this time that Miss Dare was not with Mrs. Clemmens, but in the observatory of Professor Darling’s house, to tell me what that was?”
“Answer me a question and I will reply. Can the entrance of the woods be seen from the position which she declares herself to have occupied?”
“It can. Not two hours ago I tried the experiment myself, using the same telescope and kneeling in the same place where she did. I found I could not only trace the spot where you paused, but could detect quite readily every movement of my man Hickory, whom I had previously placed there to go through the motions. I should not have come here if I had not made myself certain on that point.”
Yet the prisoner hesitated.
“I not only made myself sure of that,” resumed Mr. Gryce, “but I also tried if I could see as much with my naked eye from Mrs. Clemmens’ side door. I found I could not, and my sight is very good.”
“Enough,” said Mansell; “hard as it is to explain, I must believe Miss Dare was not where I thought her.”
“Then you will tell me what you heard?”
“Yes; for in it may lie the key to this mystery, though how, I cannot see, and doubt if you can. I am all the more ready to do it,” he pursued, “because I can now understand how she came to think me guilty, and, thinking so, conducted herself as she has done from the beginning of my trial. All but the fact of her denouncing herself yesterday; that I cannot comprehend.”
“A woman in love can do anything,” quoth Mr. Gryce. Then admonished by the flush of the prisoner’s cheek that he was treading on dangerous ground, he quickly added: “But she will explain all that herself some day. Let us hear what you have to tell me.”
Craik Mansell drooped his head and his brow became gloomy.
“Sir,” said he, “it is unnecessary for me to state that your surmise in regard to my past convictions is true. If Miss Dare was not with my aunt just before the murder, I certainly had reasons for thinking she was. To be sure, I did not see her or hear her voice, but I heard my aunt address her distinctly and by name.”
“You did?” Mr. Gryce’s interest in the tattoo he was playing on his knee became intense.
“Yes. It was just as I pushed the door ajar. The words were these: ‘You think you are going to marry him, Imogene Dare; but I tell you you never shall, not while I live.’ ”
“Humph!” broke involuntarily from the detective’s lips, and, though his face betrayed nothing of the shock this communication occasioned him, his fingers stopped an instant in their restless play.
Mr. Mansell saw it and cast him an anxious look. The detective instantly smiled with great unconcern. “Go on,” said he, “what else did you hear?”
“Nothing else. In the mood in which I was this very plain intimation that Miss Dare had sought my aunt, had pleaded with her for me and failed, struck me as sufficient. I did not wait to hear more, but hurried away in a state of passion that was little short of frenzy. To leave the place and return to my work was now my one wish. When I found, then, that by running I might catch the train at Monteith, I ran, and so unconsciously laid myself open to suspicion.”
“I see,” murmured the detective; “I see.”
“Not that I suspected any evil then,” pursued Mr. Mansell, earnestly. “I was only conscious of disappointment and a desire to escape from my own thoughts. It was not till next day—”
“Yes—yes,” interrupted
