est was over, and she had brought it
forward and shown it to the coroner, who--quite naturally--after the
explanation given by Mr. Brellier, gave it back to her as having no
dealings with the case, she told me that she could not _absolutely_
recollect her uncle telling her that he _had_ killed the dog with it.
A small thing but rather important."

"And you say that this man Borkins arranged this revolver so as to point
to the prisoner's guilt, Mr. Cleek?" asked the judge.

"I say that the man Dacre Wynne was actually _killed_ with that identical
revolver which you hold in your hand, my lord. And the construction I put
upon it is this: Borkins hated his master, but the long story of that
does not concern us here, and upon the night of the quarrel he was
listening at the door, and, hearing how things were shaping themselves,
began, as he himself has told you in his evidence, to think that there
would soon be trouble between Sir Nigel and Mr. Wynne, if things went on
as they had been going. Therefore, when he was told that Mr. Wynne had
gone out across the Fens in a drunken rage, to investigate the meaning of
the Frozen Flames, the idea entered Borkins's mind. He knew his master's
revolver, had seen it slipped under his pillow more often than not of an
evening when Sir Nigel went to bed. Here Borkins saw his life's
opportunity of getting even. He knew, too, of Miss Brellier's
revolver--_must_ have known, else why should this particular instrument
be used upon this particular night, in place of the usual type of
revolver which Brellier's guards carried, and by which poor Collins
undoubtedly met his death? So we will take it that he knew of this little
instrument here, and upon hearing of Wynne's proposed investigations, he
dashed to the back kitchen of the Towers--which, was rarely used by the
other servants, as being, so one of them told me, 'so dark and damp that
it fair gave 'em the creeps.' Therefore Borkins had his way unmolested,
and it did not take him long, knowing the turnings of the underground
passage--as he did from constant use--to communicate with Withersby Hall.
To which guard he told his tale I do not know, but, since we have taken
the whole crowd--we'll find out later. Anyway, he must have told someone
else of his desire for private vengeance. And the thing worked. When poor
Wynne met his death, it was at the point of a pistol which had lain
unused in the secretaire at Withersby Hall for some little time. I