deprecate any further interruption.

"He could not enter Mrs. Eastham's house, for there everybody knew
everybody else. He could not enter the library of the Hall, because the
footman was on duty for several hours. Is not that so?"

He seemed to bite both men with the question.

"Yes," they answered.

"Then he was compelled to hang about the avenue, watching his
opportunity--his opportunity for what? Not to commit a murder! He was
unarmed, or, at any rate, his implement was a haphazard choice, selected
on the spur of the moment. He saw David Hume leave the dance, and watched
his brief talk with the butler. He correctly interpreted Hume's
preparations to await his cousin's arrival. Did Hume's sleepiness suggest
the crime, and its probable explanation? Perhaps. I cannot determine that
point now. Assuredly it gave the opportunity to commit a theft. Something
was stolen from the secretaire. A bold rascal, to force a drawer whilst
another man was in the room! Did he fear the consequences if he were
caught? I think not. He succeeded in his object, and went off, but before
he reached the gates he saw Miss Layton, whom he did not know, talking to
the baronet. He secreted himself until the baronet entered the park alone.
For some reason, he made his presence known, and walked with Sir Alan to
the lawn outside the window, still retaining in his hand the small knife
used to prise open the lock. There was a short and vehement dispute.
Possibly the baronet guessed the object of this unexpected appearance.
There may have been a struggle. Then the knife was sent home, with such
singular skill that the victim fell without a word, a groan, to arouse
attention. The murderer made off down the avenue, but he was far too