Laura Brenton, who was engaged to Kerris, and was foolishly attentive to her. On that score the man was insolent; so Leslie discharged him. In commit--ting the murder, he took a double revenge."
"Where were you, Sir Lewis, when your cousin was killed?"
"In the park," replied the baronet, frankly, "After dinner my cousin and I went out for a stroll. In a short time he made some excuse to leave me, as I believe he wished to meet Laura by the Queen's Pool. I walked in the opposite direction, and shortly afterwards I came back to I the house. Leslie had not returned, so I went to look for him, and found his dead body by the Pool."
"Did you hear the pistol shot?"
"Yes; but I paid no attention to it. My cousin was in the habit of firing at a target, and I thought he might be doing so then."
"What! firing at a target in the twilight! Could your cousin see in the dark like a cat?" said Hagar, with irony.
"I don't know anything about that!" retorted Crane, snappishly. "I have told you the story, as you represent the detective Julf. I say no more!"
"I don't want you to say more. May I go and look at the pond?"
"Certainly. One of the servants shall show it to you."
"Can't you come yourself?" said Hagar, with a keen glance.
Crane drew back, and his yellow face grew pale. "No," said he, in an almost inaudible voice. "I have seen enough of that horrible place!"
"Very good; I'll go with the servant," replied Hagar, and marched towards the door.
"What do you want to see the pool for?" he asked, following.
"I wish to find the lost pistol."
When Hagar had taken her departure, Sir Lewis, pale and nervous, stood near the open window. "Confound this woman!" he thought, clenching his hand. "She is far too clever; but I don't think she'll be quite clever enough to find that pistol," he added, in a satisfied tone.
The Queen's Pool was a circular sheet of water filled with lilies, at the lower end of the park. On the way thereto Hagar asked the servant who was guiding her a few questions.
"Was Sir Lewis poor before he got the estate?" she demanded.
"Very poor, miss; hadn't a sixpence but what he got from Sir Leslie."
"Was he on good terms with his cousin?"
"No, miss; they was quarreling fearful. On the night of the murder they had a row royal!"
"What about?" asked Hagar, turning a keen look on the man.
"About money and that gal Laura. Sir Lewis loved her just as much as Sir Leslie; but she didn't care a straw for either of them, being taken up with Kerris."
"How does she take her lover's arrest?"
"Why, miss, she cries, and cries, and swears that he is innocent, and talks nonsense."
"What kind of nonsense? There may be some sense in it?"
"I dursn't tell you, miss," said the servant casting a hurried look round, "it 'ud be as much as my place is worth."
"Oh, I understand," said Hagar, serenely; "this Laura says that Sir Lewis killed his cousin."
"Yes, she do," replied the man, aghast at her penetration; "but how could you guess, miss, is more---"
"Never mind," said Hagar, cutting him short as they arrived at the pool. "Is this the place where the murder was committed?"
"Yes, miss; we found the body there in the mud; and just beside it the marks of the boots."
Hagar reflected, and asked another question. "Did Sir Lewis ever visit Kerris?"
"He did, miss, just two days afore the murder--went to see him about some game."
"Oh, did he?" murmured Hagar to herself. "I think there was something more than game in that visit."
Of this she said nothing to the man, who stood on the bank, watching her searching about the place. The pool was filled with clear water, and on it the lilies floated placidly. Hagar peered in to see if there was any trace of the pistol used to kill Sir Leslie; but although the water was crystal-clear, and she searched carefully, not a sign of the weapon could she see. The grass round the pool was closely shorn, and some little distance up the slope stretched a terrace with a flight of shallow stone steps. On either side of these, at the lower end, were two pillars, bearing urns of marble sculptured in classic fashion with nymphs and dancing fauns. In these bloomed scarlet geraniums, now in full flower; and as Hagar, idly gazing around, caught sight of the vivid blossoms an idea entered her head. Dismissing the man, for whom she had no further use, she moved swiftly towards the terrace, and lifted one of the pots out of its marble urn.
"No sign of a pistol there," she said, replacing the pot with a sense of disappointment. "I may be wrong. Let me examine the other."
This time she was rewarded for her shrewd guess. At the bottom of the right-hand urn, quite concealed by the pot, she found a small pistol. On its stock there was a silver plate, and on that plate a name was engraved. At the sight of this latter the eyes of Hagar glistened with much satisfaction.
"I thought so!" said she to herself, "and now to tell Julf!"
The detective was waiting for her at the park gates, and looked up expectantly as she moved towards him with a smile on her face. With grim satisfaction she placed the pistol in his hand.
"There is the weapon with which Sir Leslie was killed!" she said, in a tone of triumph. "I found it under the geranium pot in one of those urns. What do you think of that?"
"The pistol of Kerris!" said Julf quite amazed.
"No; not the pistol of Kerris, but of the man who murdered Sir Leslie."
"Kerris," repeated Julf, with dogged obstinacy.
"Look at the name on the silver plate, you idiot!"
"Lewis Crane!" read the detective, stupefied then he looked up with an expression of blank astonishment on his solemn face. "What!" he muttered, "do you think Sir Lewis killed his cousin?"
"I am sure of it!" replied Hagar, firmly. "I have just learnt from a servant that he was in love with the girl Laura also, and that he was poor and dependent upon the dead man for money. The two had a quarrel on the night of the murder, as they were walking in the park. Because of this quarrel they parted, each going different ways. Sir Lewis said that he returned home, that he heard the pistol shot, and thought that his cousin was shooting at a target--as if a man would do so in the twilight!" added the girl, contemptuously. "What he really did--Lewis, I mean--was to follow his cousin, and shoot him by the Queen's Pool; then he hid the pistol in the marble urn, and crept back to the house to play his comedy. I tell you, Mr. Julf, that Kerris is innocent. I said so always. Sir Lewis is the guilty person, and he slew his cousin out of jealousy of Laura Brenton, and because he wanted the dead man's money."
"But the boots--the footmarks in the mud?" stammered Julf, quite confounded by this reasoning. "The marks were made by the boots of Kerris."
"I quite believe that," admitted Hagar; "another portion of Sir Lewis's very clever scheme to ward off suspicion from himself. The servant who led me to the Queen's Pool will tell you, as he told me, that Sir Lewis just a day or two before the murder paid a visit to the cottage of Kerris. Now, it is my opinion that while there he stole the boots, and wore them on the night on which he committed the murder, with the intention of throwing the blame on Kerris, whom Laura Brenton loved. Don't you see what his game was, Mr. Julf? He wanted to gain a title and money, so as to marry Laura: so he slew his cousin to get the first, and laid the blame--by circumstantial evidence--on George Kerris, to get the second. Now what do you say?"
"It looks black against Sir-Lewis, certainly," admitted Julf; "still, I cannot think that he would dare---"
"Bah! men dare anything to gratify their passions!" retorted Hagar, shrewdly; "besides, he thought that he made all safe for himself by wearing the boots of Kerris. It was Sir