‘It seems to me then,’ she said at last, ‘that Austin’s suggestion must be the truth—that the murderer forged the notes purporting to be from me, and which brought Austin to the Abbey that night, that he waited for Austin’s arrival at the Old Ferry, that either he had an accomplice there or he himself was disguised as Mrs Franklyn’s servant, that on Austin’s leaving for the Abbey he made himself up to look like Austin, that he rowed to the boathouse, committed the murder, and returned the boat to the Old Ferry before Austin got back. What do you think, Jimmy?’ ‘It seems a possible defence.’ ‘It seems more than that; it seems to be what happened. If so, let us consider what that teaches us about the murderer. Several things, I think. Tell me if I go wrong. Firstly, he must have had a strong motive for Sir William’s death. Secondly, he must have known all about the family—Sir William’s habits, the lie of Luce Manor, the household arrangements, and that sort of thing. Thirdly, he must have been acquainted with Austin, and _his_ house and habits, and fourthly, he must not only have been aware of my existence and friendship with Austin, but he must have had my handwriting to copy. Surely there can’t be many persons in the world to whom all these conditions apply?’ ‘One would say not,’ Daunt returned slowly. ‘It’s very unfortunate, of course, but you must see how the prosecution will use all these points you bring up—every one of them can be turned against Austin.’ ‘I know, but that’s only wasting time. The fact that Austin’s innocence rules him out surely makes the search for the real murderer easier?’ ‘Why, that is so, I suppose.’ Daunt tried to make his voice cheery and sanguine. ‘Very well. I came to that conclusion days ago. Now Jimmy, it’s a horrible thing to say, but who is the only other person we know of that fits the conditions?’ Daunt looked up swiftly. It was suddenly evident to him that Lois was speaking with a more direct object than he had thought. ‘I don’t know, Lois,’ he answered. ‘Who?’ ‘Who but the cousin—Mr Cosgrove Ponson?’ ‘Good Heavens! That never occurred to me. But does he fill the bill?’ ‘I have thought so for some time, but it’s a matter for you to find out. But just consider. Mr Cosgrove benefits by the will—Austin told me so. He knew Sir William and all about Luce Manor; he knew Austin and all about _him_; he was like Austin in appearance; and lastly he knew me—he has dined here with Austin.’ ‘Your handwriting?’ ‘I wrote to thank him for sending me the name of an English _pension_ at Cannes—a friend of mine wanted to know.’ ‘When was that?’ ‘About two months ago.’ ‘Seems rather a long time. And when did he dine?’ ‘About a week before that. I happened to mention about the _pension_, and he said he had some addresses and would look them up.’ ‘And what kind of man is he personally?’ Lois did not reply for some moments.