"It is impossible," he said, sharply. "Sir Simon was wealthy and much respected. He would not allow his nephew to go about in rags."
Herries looked sullen.
"My uncle and I quarrelled."
"Oh," said the Inspector in a peculiar tone.
"Do you take that admission as a sign of guilt?" inquired Herries, ironically.
"I take it to mean that you had bad feelings towards the deceased."
The prisoner shook his head.
"You are wrong, I had no bad feelings."
"And yet you quarrelled?"
"Violently!"
"Take care. What you say may be used against--" Herries rose with an angry gesture.
"An innocent man such as I am does not need to be careful of his words," he cried. "My life history is miserable enough certainly, but there is no page of which I need be ashamed."
"For an educated man to be in such a plight--."
The prisoner again interrupted.
"Do you know what Jonah's Luck is?
"I know that the person you mention was swallowed by a whale," said Trent with dignity. "I am not entirely a heathen."
In spite of his misery Herries could not help smiling.
"I give you the whale," he said sarcastically. "In spite of my sojourn in the Arctic regions, I have escaped the gullet of that animal. I allude to the prophet's luck. Everything went wrong with him, as it has done with me. Do you know what it is, Inspector, to be unlucky--to try your hardest to earn bread and a roof in the face of circumstances too hard to conquer? Have you ever found doors shut against you? Has your family ever regarded you as a hopeless black sheep, because you had not the money to wash your wool white? I have been hungry, starving, almost without clothes, certainly without fire on freezing days. Life has crushed me into the mire, and every struggle I made to rise, was met with a fresh blow."
"Such miseries as these," said Dogberry, sapiently, "lead men to commit crimes."
"In my case, no," cried Herries, striking the table heavily. "I can look any man in the face, as I look into yours now, and can say that I am honest, in thought, word, and deed."
His clear blue eyes looked into those of the Inspector, and it was the official who first gave way. Turning over the leaves of his pocket-book, to disguise the impression which Herries' frankness had made on him, he took refuge in irritation, a sure sign that he had no feasible reply to make.
"This isn't what we are here to talk about," he said testily. "I wish to know what defence you have to make, to the charge brought against you by the landlord?"
"What defence?--that I am innocent."
"On what grounds?"
"On the grounds that I never expected to find Sir Simon here, that I did not know he was in the house, that I have no grudge against him."
"How do I know that?" asked Trent, cunningly.
"Because I tell you that such is the case," said Herries haughtily, "and if you will listen to a short account of my life, you may be able to conquer the prejudice against me, which the couple who keep this miserable inn have instilled into your breast."
"I am not prejudiced," snapped Trent, nettled, "say what you have to say, and let us end this business as speedily as possible."
"I am only too anxious to do so," said Herries coldly and folding his arms, still standing. "I am the son of Sir Simon Tedder's only sister. He was a hard man, always, and when she married against his will, he would never help her. My mother and father both died when I was in my teens. They left enough money for me to gain an education and secure a doctor's degree. I practised on shore with bad success, and so went to sea. I have been away from England for about two years, and since then I have never set eyes on my uncle, until you showed me his corpse just now."
"When did you see him last?"
"Two years ago. I was doing badly, and called upon him to learn if he would help me. He might have done so, but that I was in love with his daughter, Maud. I had met her at the house of some friends in Edinburgh, and saw her frequently. We loved, and when I saw my uncle I told him this. He became angry, and turned me out of the house. By his order Maud sent back my letters, and since then I have had nothing to do with either of them. Why then, I ask you, should I kill my uncle, seeing that I cannot benefit in any way by such a crime? I landed here two days ago, unknown and friendless. As I said, I was on my way to Tarhaven, to see a friend, when I put up at this accursed inn last night."
"Who is your friend?"
"Dr. James Browne of Elgar Avenue, Tarhaven. We were fellow students."
"I know him," said the Inspector, taking down the name. "Can he vouch for your respectability?"
Herries smiled bitterly.
"Respectability and myself parted company long ago," said he with a shrug, "but Browne knows all that I am telling you now, even to the courting of my cousin Maud."
"What did he think of your quarrelling with your uncle?"
"He approved of my leaving the house. As to the quarrel, Browne knows that I have a fiery temper."
"Oh," interrupted Trent in his peculiar tone, and thinking that he had chanced upon something suspicious. "So you have a fiery temper?"
"Yes," admitted Herries, not dreaming of what such an admission might mean to him. "But only when it is aroused by injustice and insults. Last night it was not so roused. I went to bed shortly before eight o'clock, ignorant, as I have said several times, that my uncle was in the house. Had I known that, I would have gone on to Tarhaven, weary though I was, rather than have slept under the same roof with a man who insulted my mother and myself shamefully."
Trent shook his head.
"All very fine. But the key of Sir Simon's room was found on the floor of your bedroom. The razor, with which his throat was cut, was in your possession, and there is blood on the sleeve of your shirt."
The young man hastily stripped off his coat, and held the right hand sleeve of his shirt under the lamp, close to Trent's eyes.
"There are the smears," he said quietly, "and you will see that they are made by fingers dipped in blood having been drawn down the sleeve. Could I have done that myself? Also, when I found the razor on my quilt when I awoke, I called up the landlord to ask him what it meant. I knew nothing of the crime at the time, neither did Narby, as he will tell you. Were I guilty, would I have acted in so foolish a manner?"
"Oh yes, you would," said Trent, dictatorially, "criminals are very artful, as I have often found."
It was apparently impossible to convince a man so bent upon finding proofs of guilt where none existed, so Herries abandoned persuasion and turned away with a shrug.
"I have nothing
