He was responsible for everything.

That one crooked channel of thought that persistently turned aside all blame onto an unknown offender, had at last given a certain crookedness, a sort of twist, to the whole subject in Fay's mind.
"I begged Michael again for the twentieth time to tell me anything that could act as a clue to discovering the real criminal," said Wentworth.
"I told him I would spend my last shilling in bringing him to justice, but he only shook his head.

I told him that some of his friends felt certain that he knew who the murderer was, and was shielding him.

He shook his head again.

He would not tell me anything the first day I went to him after he was arrested.