The more she thought of it the more probable it seemed that Fairlie was the man: she was amazed that she had never given him a thought before. She recalled Philip’s account of how he had roused Fairlie: there was nothing in that to have prevented Fairlie’s participation during the earlier part of that long interval between thirteen minutes to twelve when Sir Roger left the study and half-past one when he was found dead: plenty of time for him to have let John out, killed Sir Roger—or killed Sir Roger and let John out, if that was the order—and gone himself to bed. Full of such thoughts she saw her work clear before her, to find proofs which should either dispel this theory as all her others had been dispelled or make it stand out evident to all as the truth. It fitted all facts so well that even in her humility she felt assured that this time it would be strange indeed if she were entirely wrong. She had none of the bitter, horror-stricken resentment with which her belief in Philip’s guilt had inspired her; horror she felt still certainly, but also a kind of unwilling pity. She could not imagine Fairlie capable of what she would call a selfish crime: there could be no reason for such an act. Whatever his feelings towards Sir Roger were—and it was probable that beneath his respectful deference had lain a deep resentment—they would never have blazed, she felt, into violence. The thought fought itself in on her that he might have acted merely as a shield against discovery to John. At this she rose hastily: it was no use repeating error by vexing herself in advance needlessly. It was time to act, to prove, not think. Her recent talk with Humblethorne on the subject of finger-marks had not been entirely conversational: at the back of her mind, humiliated though she had been, had still lingered irrepressible interest, and she had kept wondering whether it would not be possible to find on the statuette marks which would guide her towards the real truth. Now she would put the information given her by Humblethorne to the test. It was characteristic of her that she never stopped to consider the propriety of her handling the statuette for such a purpose: it would have been simpler and safer to have informed Humblethorne of her discovery, but she had erred alone and she would succeed alone.