“Yes, but you had dined with the Ballantynes on that night.  Surely it’s strange that since you were in Bombay Mrs. Ballantyne’s advisers did not seek you out.”

“Yes, yes,” added Mr. Hazlewood, “very strange indeed, Mr. Thresk—­since you were in Bombay”; and he looked up at the ceiling and joined the tips of his fingers, his whole attitude a confident question:  “Answer that if you can.”

Thresk turned patiently round.

“Hasn’t it occurred to you, Mr. Hazlewood, that it is still more strange that the prosecution did not at once approach me?”

“Yes,” said Pettifer suddenly.  “That question too has troubled me”; and Thresk turned back again.

“You see,” he explained, “I was not known to be in Bombay at all.  On the contrary I was supposed to be somewhere in the Red Sea or the Mediterranean on my way back to England.”

Mr. Pettifer looked up in surprise.  The statement was news to him and if true provided a natural explanation of some of his chief perplexities.  “Let me understand that!” and there was a change in his voice which Thresk was quick to detect.  There was less hostility.

“Certainly,” Thresk answered.  “I left the tent just before eleven to catch the Bombay mail.  I was returning direct to England.  The reason why Ballantyne asked me to take the photograph of Bahadur Salak was that since I was going on board straight from the train it could be no danger to me.”

“Then why didn’t you go straight on board?” asked Pettifer.

“I’ll tell you,” Thresk replied.  “I thought the matter over on the journey down to Bombay, and I came to the conclusion that since the photograph might be wanted at Salak’s trial I had better take it to the Governor’s house at Bombay.  But Government House is out at Malabar Point, four miles from the quays.  I took the photograph out myself and so I missed the boat.  But there was an announcement in the papers that I had sailed, and in fact the consul at Marseilles came on board at that port to inquire for me on instructions from the Indian Government.”

Mr. Pettifer leaned back.

“Yes, I see,” he said thoughtfully.  “That makes a difference—­a big difference.”  Then he sat upright again and said sharply: 

“You were in Bombay then when Mrs. Ballantyne was brought down from Chitipur?”

“Yes.”

“And when the case for the Crown was started?”

“Yes.”

“And when the Crown’s witnesses were cross-examined?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you wait then all that time before you came forward?” Pettifer put the question with an air of triumph.  “Why, Mr. Thresk, did you wait till the very moment when Mrs. Ballantyne was going to be definitely committed to a particular line of defence before you announced that you could clear up the mystery?  Doesn’t it rather look as if you had remained hidden on the chance of the prosecution breaking down, and had only come forward when you realised that to-morrow self-defence would be pleaded, the firing of that rook-rifle admitted and a terrible risk of a verdict of guilty run?”