"Oh, that's the queer part of it. Dr. Stern is lookin' after poor old Joe Bland, who's mighty bad with--there, now, if I haven't gone and forgotten the name; something-itis--and Mr. Hilton must have seen the car standin' outside Bland's house. But what was he doin' in Roxton at arf past twelve? That's wot beats me. And then, just fancy me stubbin' my toe against this!"
Again he displayed the rifle as if it were an exhibit and he were giving evidence.
"Let's go inside and get a light," said Winter, and the four mounted the steps into the hall. Robert Fenley was there--red-faced as ever, for he had helped in putting out the fire, but quite sober, since he had been very sick.
Some lamps and candles gave a fair amount of light, and Robert eyed Trenholme viciously.
"So it was you!" he said. "I thought it was. Well, my father and mother are both dead, and this is no time for settlin' matters; but I'll look you up when this business is all over."
"If you do, you'll get hurt," said Winter brusquely. "Is that your rifle?" and he pointed to the weapon in Farrow's hands.
"In the Quarry Wood, sir, but a'most in the park," said the policeman.
Fenley could hardly have put a question better calculated to prove his own innocence of any complicity in the crime.
Winter took the gun, meaning to open the breech, but he and Furneaux simultaneously noticed a bit of black thread tied to one of the triggers. It had been broken, and the two loose ends were some inches in length.
"That settles it," muttered Furneaux. "The scoundrel fixed it to a thick branch, aimed it carefully on more than one occasion--look at the sights, set for four hundred yards--and fired it by pulling a cord from his bedroom window when he saw his father occupying the exact position where the sighting practiced on Monday and Tuesday showed that a fatal wound would be inflicted. The remaining length of cord was stronger than this packing thread, which was bound to give way first when force was applied.... Well, that side of the question didn't bother us much, did it, Winter?"
"May I ask who you're talking about?" inquired Robert Fenley hoarsely.
"About that precious rogue, your half brother," was the answer. "That is why he went to his bedroom, one window of which looks out on the park and the other on the east front, where he watched his father standing to light a cigar before entering the motor. He laid the cord before breakfast, knowing that Miss Manning's habit of bathing in the lake would keep gardeners and others from that part of the grounds. When the shot was fired he pulled in the cord----"