He had talked with Churton after the adjourned inquest, and had heard all that the professional intellect had to offer in the way of opinion at that time; but he thought it worth his while to find out if the detective’s ideas had taken any new development upon subsequent reflection, and also to submit Juanita’s theory to professional consideration. He was not one of those amateurs who think that they are cleverer at a trade than the man who has served a long apprenticeship to it. “Have you thought anything more about the Cheriton murder since last July, Mr. Churton?” he asked; “or has your current work been too engrossing to give you time for thought?” “No, sir. I’ve had plenty of other cases to think about, but I’m not likely to forget such a case as that at Cheriton, a case in which I was worsted more completely than I have been in anything for the last ten years. I’ve thought about it a good bit, I can assure you, Mr. Dalbrook.” “And do you see any new light?” “No, sir. I stick pretty close to my original opinion. Sir Godfrey Carmichael was murdered by somebody that bore a grudge against him; and there’s a woman at the bottom of it.” “Why a woman? Might not a man’s hatred be deadly enough to lead to murder?” “Not unless he was egged on by a woman; or had been jilted by a woman; or was jealous of a woman; or thought he had a woman’s wrongs to avenge.” “Is that what your experience teaches you, Mr. Churton?” “Yes, Mr. Dalbrook, that is what my experience teaches me.” “And you think it was an enemy of Sir Godfrey’s who fired that shot?” “I do.” “Do you think the enemy was a woman—the hand that pulled the trigger a woman’s hand?” “No, I don’t. A woman couldn’t have been about the place without being remarked—or got clear off, as a man might.” “There are the servants. Could the murderer be one of them?” “I do not think so, sir. I’ve taken stock of them all—stables—lodges—everywhere. I never met with such a superior set of servants. The person at the west lodge is a lady bred and born, I should say. She gave me a good deal of information about the household. I consider her a remarkably intelligent woman, and I know she is of my opinion as to the motive of the murder.” “And yet if I tell you that Sir Godfrey had not an enemy in the world?” said Theodore, dwelling on the main point, and not particularly interested in what the highly-intelligent Mrs. Porter might have said upon the subject. “I should tell you, sir, that no man can answer for another man. There is something in the lives of most of us that we would rather keep dark.” “I don’t believe there was any dark spot in Sir Godfrey’s life. But what if there were an enemy of Lord Cheriton’s—a man who has been a judge is in a fair way to have made enemies—a foe vindictive enough to strike at him through his son-in-law, to smite him by destroying his daughter’s happiness? She is his only child, remember, and all his hopes and ambitions centre in her.”