4. When cornered he had told a false story of a search for a lost
locket.
5. The clothes of the dead man had been found in the very place where
French imagined Domlio would have hidden them.
6. There was a quite adequate motive if, as might well be, Domlio was
really attached to Mrs. Berlyn.
7. There was no other person whom French knew of who could have been
Berlyn’s confederate.
Many and many a man had been hanged on far less evidence than there
was here. With this mass of incriminating facts an arrest was amply
justifiable. Indeed, a conviction was almost assured.
On the other hand, every bit of this evidence was circumstantial and
could be explained on the assumption of Domlio’s innocence, by
supposing him to be the victim of a conspiracy on the part of the real
murderer.
French wondered if he could make the man reveal his own outlook on the
affair.
“Tell me, Colonel,” he said, “did it not strike you as a strange thing
that Mrs. Berlyn should stumble at just the point which ensured her
falling into your arms?”
Domlio slackened speed and looked around aggressively.
“Just what do you mean by that?”
“As a matter of fact,” French answered, sweetly, “what I mean is, was
the accident genuine or faked?”
The colonel squared his shoulders indignantly.
“I consider that a most unwarrantable remark,” he said, hotly, “and I
shall not answer it. I can only suppose your abominable calling has
warped your mind and made suspicion a disease with you.”
French glanced at him keenly. The man was genuinely angry. And if so,
it tended in his favour. Real indignation is difficult to simulate and
would not be called forth by an imaginary insult.
“If you think my remark unwarrantable, I shall withdraw it,” French
said, with his pleasant smile. “I simply wanted to know whether you
yourself believed in it. I think you do. Well, Colonel, I think that’s
all we can do to-night. I’m sorry to have given you all this
annoyance, but you can see I had no option.”
They had reached the gate of Torview. Domlio stopped the car.
“Then you are not going to arrest me?” he asked, with barely concealed
anxiety.
“No. Why should I? You have accounted in a reasonable way for the
suspicious circumstances. So far as I can see, your explanation is
satisfactory. I can’t expect any more.”
The colonel gave a sigh of relief.
“To be quite candid,” he admitted, “I scarcely hoped that you would
accept it. After what has occurred, I can’t expect you to believe me,
but for what it’s worth I give you my word of honour that what I have
told you this time is the truth. I may tell you that I have been
afraid of this very development ever since the tragedy. How are you
getting to Ashburton? Shall I run you in?”
“It would be very good of you.”
It was with considerable uneasiness that French saw Colonel Domlio
drive off from the hotel in Ashburton. He had backed his judgment that
the man was innocent, but he recognised that he might easily have made
a mistake. At the same time Domlio could scarcely escape otherwise
than by suicide, and he felt sure that his mind had been so much eased
that he would not attempt anything so drastic. As soon, however, as
the car was out of sight he walked to the police station and asked Daw
to have a watch kept on the man’s movements.