With a masterly stroke, such as few trained players could use, he had potted his adversary's ball.

The red ball was left over the very jaws of the pocket.

The white was in the centre.
Kent looked into Throgton's face.
The balls were standing in the very same position on the table as on the night of the murder.
"I did that on purpose," said Kent quietly.
"What do you mean ?" asked Throgton.
"The position of those balls," said Kent.

"Mr.Throgton, come into the library.

I have something to say to you.