I went into the smoking room but forgot to light my pipe. With
my head in my hands I bent over the fire and tried in the first place to
grasp this second tragedy, and then to piece things together and see some
sequence in them.
That Bolton had really been on the right scent now seemed highly
probable, though as he made no concealment of his business, it was
possible that an agency which had tried to murder me, defied all efforts
to check it for months, and to all seeming had lately blown up a cruiser,
might get rid of him simply on general principles. Still, the working
hypothesis must be that he had got on to their track. And, oh, if he had
only told me what he had discovered! But that secret had died with him,
and now once more one must begin all over again.
Yet this time I had secured one significant-looking starting point. The
coincidence of Jock's appearance out at that lonely place more or less
about the time when the murder must have taken place, and his leading me
away in another direction from that in which I was heading, was certainly
suggestive. The creature had exhibited more appearance of intelligence
than I had given him credit for, and might he not then be used by some
one who knew him well and had strong influence over him, to play such a
simple part as he had acted? Supposing he were with such a person and
that person saw me coming and did not wish me to spy him, how easy it
would be to say, "Go, Jock, and show that gentleman stones over there!"
As to whom to suspect of having such influence over him, that was easy
enough.
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