"That we must have a snake-in-the-grass amongst us here, I knew," cried Dr. Downes; "but I never suspected Lennox. I was more inclined to suspect _you_, Master Philip," with a nod at Philip, who was lying on a sofa, "although you are your father's son and your good mother's. You are laughing, are you? Well, you can afford to laugh, things having turned out so: you'd have found it no laughing matter had you been the black sheep."
"I dare say not, Doctor," answered Philip.
"But it is an awful thought that he, Lennox, whose hand has been meeting ours in friendship, should have been the murderer of Hubert Stone."
Never had the good people of Nullington had more food for gossip, wonder, and surmise--never had they been so startled out of the ordinary quietude of their lives, as during the Christmastide to which events have now brought us. The marriage, under somewhat romantic circumstances, of Philip Cleeve, and the coming home of himself and his bride, would, in ordinary times, have served as the chief topic of conversation for a month to come. But this comparatively tame episode was completely overshadowed by the startling revelations in connection with Captain Lennox.
Both Captain Lennox and his sister had vanished as completely as if the earth had swallowed them up. They had been traced to London, but there the trail was lost, and it had not hitherto been found again. Lennox had never come back to complete the arrangements respecting the letting of the cottage to Mr. Norris. Something must have aroused his suspicions, and some one, probably one of his own servants, must have sent him timely information respecting the execution of the search-warrant. In any case, he was nowhere to be found after that day. Mr. Meath was at fault; the general police were at fault; and meanwhile the cottage remained in charge of the police local constabulary.
Christmas at Heron Dyke could not well have been spent more quietly. Conroy was away for a few days about this time. Mrs. Carlyon and Ella went into the town occasionally to see Maria and Philip, and that was about their only dissipation.
"It must have been Captain Lennox who took the jewel-case out of my dressing-room that night at Bayswater," remarked Mrs. Carlyon one day. "And to think I could not get rid of an uneasy suspicion that it might have been poor Philip Cleeve who had taken it!"