I had passed out from the shadow of the tower and was walking in the
direction of the sentinel yews when this idea, dreadfully complete,
leapt to my mind. I pulled up short, as though hindered by a palpable
barrier. Vague musings, evanescent theories, vanished like smoke, and a
ghastly, consistent theory of the crime unrolled itself before me, with
all the cold logic of truth.
"My God!" I groaned aloud, "I see it all. I see it all."
CHAPTER XXVIII
MY THEORY OF THE CRIME
The afternoon was well advanced before Paul Harley returned.
So deep was my conviction that I had hit upon the truth, and so well
did my theory stand every test which I could apply to it, that I felt
disinclined for conversation with any one concerned in the tragedy
until I should have submitted the matter to the keen analysis of
Harley. Upon the sorrow of Madame de Staemer I naturally did not
intrude, nor did I seek to learn if she had carried out her project of
looking upon the dead man.
About mid-day the body was removed, after which an oppressive and
awesome stillness seemed to descend upon Cray's Folly.
Inspector Aylesbury had not returned from his investigations at the
Guest House, and learning that Miss Beverley was remaining with Madame
de Staemer, I declined to face the ordeal of a solitary luncheon in the
dining room, and merely ate a few sandwiches, walking over to the
Lavender Arms for a glass of Mrs.
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