’Of what, then, have we convicted Randolph?  For one thing, we have shown that by marks of feet in the snow preparation was made beforehand for obscuring the cause of the earl’s death.  That death must therefore have been at least expected, foreknown.  Thus we convict him of expecting it.  And then, by an independent line of deduction, we can also discover the means by which he expected it to occur.  It is clear that he did not expect it to occur when it did by the hand of Maude Cibras—­for this is proved by his knowledge that she had left the neighbourhood, by his evidently genuine astonishment at the sight of the closed window, and, above all, by his truly morbid desire to establish a substantial, an irrefutable alibi for himself by going to Plymouth on the day when there was every reason to suppose she would do the deed—­that is, on the 8th, the day of the earl’s invitation.  On the fatal night, indeed, the same morbid eagerness to build up a clear alibi is observable, for he surrounds himself with a cloud of witnesses in the upper chamber.  But that, you will admit, is not nearly so perfect a one as a journey, say, to Plymouth would have been.  Why then, expecting the death, did he not take some such journey?  Obviously because on this occasion his personal presence was necessary.  When, in conjunction with this, we recall the fact that during the intrigues with Cibras the lectures were discontinued, and again resumed immediately on her unlooked-for departure, we arrive at the conclusion that the means by which Lord Pharanx’s death was expected to occur was the personal presence of Randolph in conjunction with the political speeches, the candidature, the class, the apparatus.

’But though he stands condemned of foreknowing, and being in some sort connected with, his father’s death, I can nowhere find any indication of his having personally accomplished it, or even of his ever having had any such intention.  The evidence is evidence of complicity—­and nothing more.  And yet—­and yet—­even of this we began by acquitting him unless we could discover, as I said, some strong, adequate, altogether irresistible motive for such complicity.  Failing this, we ought to admit that at some point our argument has played us false, and led us into conclusions wholly at variance with our certain knowledge of the principles underlying human conduct in general.  Let us therefore seek for such a motive—­something deeper than personal enmity, stronger than personal ambition, than the love of life itself! And now, tell me, at the time of the occurrence of this mystery, was the whole past history of the House of Orven fully investigated?’

‘Not to my knowledge,’ I answered; ’in the papers there were, of course, sketches of the earl’s career, but that I think was all.’