“As a matter of fact,” French answered, sweetly, “what I mean is, was the accident genuine or faked?” The colonel squared his shoulders indignantly. “I consider that a most unwarrantable remark,” he said, hotly, “and I shall not answer it. I can only suppose your abominable calling has warped your mind and made suspicion a disease with you.” French glanced at him keenly. The man was genuinely angry. And if so, it tended in his favour. Real indignation is difficult to simulate and would not be called forth by an imaginary insult. “If you think my remark unwarrantable, I shall withdraw it,” French said, with his pleasant smile. “I simply wanted to know whether you yourself believed in it. I think you do. Well, Colonel, I think that’s all we can do to-night. I’m sorry to have given you all this annoyance, but you can see I had no option.” They had reached the gate of Torview. Domlio stopped the car. “Then you are not going to arrest me?” he asked, with barely concealed anxiety. “No. Why should I? You have accounted in a reasonable way for the suspicious circumstances. So far as I can see, your explanation is satisfactory. I can’t expect any more.” The colonel gave a sigh of relief. “To be quite candid,” he admitted, “I scarcely hoped that you would accept it. After what has occurred, I can’t expect you to believe me, but for what it’s worth I give you my word of honour that what I have told you this time is the truth. I may tell you that I have been afraid of this very development ever since the tragedy. How are you getting to Ashburton? Shall I run you in?” “It would be very good of you.” It was with considerable uneasiness that French saw Colonel Domlio drive off from the hotel in Ashburton. He had backed his judgment that the man was innocent, but he recognised that he might easily have made a mistake. At the same time Domlio could scarcely escape otherwise than by suicide, and he felt sure that his mind had been so much eased that he would not attempt anything so drastic. As soon, however, as the car was out of sight he walked to the police station and asked Daw to have a watch kept on the man’s movements. Chapter Sixteen Certainty at Last That night as French was writing up his diary the question he had asked Domlio recurred to him. “Tell me, Colonel,” he had said, “did it not strike you as strange that Mrs. Berlyn should stumble at just the point which ensured her falling into your arms?” He had asked it to test the colonel’s belief in the incident. Now it occurred to him that on its merits it required an answer. Had the incident stood alone it might well have passed unquestioned. But it was not alone. Two other matters must be considered in conjunction with it. First there was the coincidence that at the precise moment a watcher armed with a camera should be present. What accident should take a photographer to this secluded glen just when so compromising a tableau should be staged? Was there here an element of design?