"
"His cook was under suspicion," said Egbert shortly.
"I know he was," said Sir Lulworth, "simply because he was about the only
person on the premises at the time of the tragedy. But could anything be
sillier than trying to fasten a charge of murder on to Sebastien? He had
nothing to gain, in fact, a good deal to lose, from the death of his
employer. The Canon was paying him quite as good wages as I was able to
offer him when I took him over into my service. I have since raised them
to something a little more in accordance with his real worth, but at the
time he was glad to find a new place without troubling about an increase
of wages. People were fighting rather shy of him, and he had no friends
in this country. No; if anyone in the world was interested in the
prolonged life and unimpaired digestion of the Canon it would certainly
be Sebastien."
"People don't always weigh the consequences of their rash acts," said
Egbert, "otherwise there would be very few murders committed. Sebastien
is a man of hot temper."
"He is a southerner," admitted Sir Lulworth; "to be geographically exact
I believe he hails from the French slopes of the Pyrenees. I took that
into consideration when he nearly killed the gardener's boy the other day
for bringing him a spurious substitute for sorrel. One must always make
allowances for origin and locality and early environment; 'Tell me your
longitude and I'll know what latitude to allow you,' is my motto.
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