“No,” replied Harley, “I was ridiculously inactive. You see, I am a mere amateur, Inspector. For my future guidance I should be glad to know what the correct procedure would have been.” Inspector Aylesbury blew his nose. “I know my job,” he said. “If I had been called in there might have been a different tale to tell. But he was a foreigner, and he paid for his ignorance, poor fellow.” Paul Harley took out his pipe and began to load it in a deliberate and lazy manner. Inspector Aylesbury turned his prominent eyes in my direction. CHAPTER XIX COMPLICATIONS “I am afraid of this man Aylesbury,” said Paul Harley. We sat in the deserted dining room. I had contributed my account of the evening’s happenings, Dr. Rolleston had made his report, and Inspector Aylesbury was now examining the servants in the library. Harley and I had obtained his official permission to withdraw, and the physician was visiting Madame de Stämer, who lay in a state of utter prostration. “What do you mean, Harley?” “I mean that he will presently make some tragic blunder. Good God, Knox, to think that this man had sought my aid, and that I stood by idly whilst he walked out to his death. I shall never forgive myself.” He banged the table with his fist. “Even now that these unknown fiends have achieved their object, I am helpless, helpless. There was not a wisp of smoke to guide me, Knox, and one man cannot search a county.” I sighed wearily. “Do you know, Harley,” I said, “I am thinking of a verse of Kipling’s.” “I know!” he interrupted, almost savagely. “A Snider squibbed in the jungle. Somebody laughed and fled--” “Oh, I know, Knox. I heard that damnable laughter, too.” “My God,” I whispered, “who was it? What was it? Where did it come from?” “As well ask where the shot came from, Knox. Out amongst all those trees, with a house that might have been built for a sounding-board, who could presume to say where either came from? One thing we know, that the shot came from the south.” He leaned upon a corner of the table, staring at me intently. “From the south?” I echoed. Harley glanced in the direction of the open door. “Presently,” he said, “we shall have to tell Aylesbury everything that we know. After all, he represents the law; but unless we can get Inspector Wessex down from Scotland Yard, I foresee a miscarriage of justice. Colonel Menendez lay on his face, and the line made by his recumbent body pointed almost directly toward--” I nodded, watching him. “I know, Harley--toward the Guest House.” Paul Harley inclined his head, grimly. “The first light which we saw,” he continued, “was in a window of the Guest House. It may have had no significance. Awakened by the sound of a rifle-shot near by, any one would naturally get up.” “And having decided to come downstairs and investigate,” I continued, “would naturally light a lamp.”