"Why, Mr. Thresk, did you wait
till the very moment when Mrs. Ballantyne was going to be definitely
committed to a particular line of defence before you announced that you
could clear up the mystery? Doesn't it rather look as if you had remained
hidden on the chance of the prosecution breaking down, and had only come
forward when you realised that to-morrow self-defence would be pleaded,
the firing of that rook-rifle admitted and a terrible risk of a verdict
of guilty run?"

Thresk agreed without a moment's hesitation.

"But that's the truth, Mr. Pettifer," he said, and Mr. Pettifer
sprang up.

"What?"

"Consider my position"--Thresk drew up his chair close to the table--"a
barrister who was beginning to have one of the large practices, the
Courts opening in London, briefs awaiting me, cases on which I had
already advised coming on. I had already lost a fortnight. That was bad
enough, but if I came forward with my story I must wait in Bombay not
merely for a fortnight but until the whole trial was completed, as in the
end I had to do. Of course I hoped that the prosecution would break down.
Of course I didn't intervene until it was absolutely necessary in the
interests of justice that I should."

He spoke so calmly, there was so much reason in what he said, that
Pettifer could not but be convinced.

"I see," he said. "I see. Yes. That's not to be disputed." He remained
silent for a few moments. Then he shuffled his papers together and
replaced them in the envelope. It seemed that his examination was over.
Thresk rose from his chair.

"You have no more questions to ask me?" he inquired.

"One more."

Pettifer came round the table and stood in front of Henry Thresk.

"Did you know Mrs. Ballantyne before you went to Chitipur?"

"Yes," Thresk replied.

"Had you seen her lately?"

"No."

"When had you last seen her?"

"Eight years before, in this neighbourhood. I spent a holiday close
by. Her father and mother were then alive. I had not seen her since. I
did not even know that she was in India and married until I was told so
in Bombay."

Thresk was prepared for that question. He had the truth ready and he
spoke it frankly. Mr. Pettifer turned away to Hazlewood, who was watching
him expectantly.

"We have nothing more to do, Hazlewood, but to thank Mr. Thresk for
answering our questions and to apologise to him for having put them."

Mr. Hazlewood was utterly disconcerted. After all, then, the marriag