Here there was a pause while the eyes of both men seemed fixed on me in keen scrutiny. For my part I had already summed up the situation and could have finished the story for them. I had been watching the smaller of the two, though listening to the other; for there seemed to me something familiar in the curl of his lips. I tried to connect them in my mind with the memories I had of the face of my father's murderer, but wasn't altogether successful. Yet I thought the resemblance was strong enough, seeing I had never had a clear view of the fellow. I had only seen him by the leaping firelight, again in the dim glimmer of the moon, and lastly with my senses failing when he had struck me by the jetty. And now there were only the stars, the lights from the town across the water, and the lantern in the boat, to discover him to me; and even so only the lower part of his face was visible. The thought in my mind was that this was Bite-in-the-Dark, and the larger man who seemed to have the matter in hand was Shadow-of-Fear himself. He resumed in a lower and more impressive voice: "So you see there were only two who knew the secret; for we needn't count the servant. He was merely a part of his master's will. And then"--again he paused--"Playden was killed. He was _stabbed in the neck_." He seemed to intend me to understand something particular by this. "And the manuscript vanished. Here it is." The conclusion was obvious. He might have said, "Here is the murderer." Again there was silence for a while, as they fixed me with their eyes from behind their masks. Then I began to be aware of something happening behind me. For a little time now there had been a sort of gentle tugging at my bonds, but I had hardly noticed it as my mind had been given to the story. But now in the space of silence I grew keenly conscious of it. There was something furtive in the twitching of the cords at my wrists, very much as though a rat were gnawing at them. Indeed for half a minute I wondered whether Providence were coming to my aid, for I had heard of prisoners being miraculously freed in such a way. But the hope was too wild to be credited. Then the man before me began to speak again, and my mind was torn between his words, which I knew I must follow with all my wits, and the silent movements behind me which I couldn't understand, but which vaguely alarmed me by their secrecy and stealth. "But the manuscript, as you know, is now only half a key. It is old and torn, and there is a vital portion missing." He turned to the map and pointed to the spot which had puzzled my father. "Even Playden never unravelled the mystery though he searched for twenty years."