She shot a glance over her shoulder and saw that the door of the boathouse was half open—the coroner had been in and had neglected to close it. She looked at the men at the end of the wharf; they stood in a little cluster, backs toward her, heads together in animated discussion. She moved from the wall, advanced on tip-toe through the slant of shade, and slipped through the open doorway. The place was very still, its clear, varnished brownness impregnated with the sea’s salty tang, through its windows the golden gleam of the waves reflected in rippling lights that chased across its peaked ceiling. She stole to the table where the grim shape lay and lifted the tarpaulin with a trembling hand. The other shot suddenly to her mouth, strangling a scream, and she dropped the heavy cloth as if it burned her. Both hands went up over her face, flattened there until the nails were empurpled, and she stood, bent as if cramped with pain, for the moment all movement paralyzed. Ferguson, informed of all he wanted to know, turned from the others to join her. She was not where he had left her, and moving down the wharf he looked about and, seeing no sign of her, decided that she had gone home. He was passing the boathouse doorway when she came through it almost upon him. "Good heavens!" he said angrily, "have you been in _there_?" Then, seeing her face, he caught her arm and held her. Would there ever be an end to her willfulness! "Come home," he said, sharply, and led her away. She tottered beside him, drooping and ghastly. As they crossed the road to the path up the bluff he could not forbear an exasperated: "What in the name of common sense did you do that for? Didn’t you know it was not a thing for you to see?" Her hands locked on his arm; she leaned against him lifting a haggard glance to his face. Her voice was a husky whisper: "It’s not that, Dick. It wasn’t just the dead man. It was—it was—he was my detective—Larkin!" CHAPTER XXIX—MISS MAITLAND EXPLAINS On Saturday afternoon several telephone messages were sent to Esther Maitland at O’Malley’s flat. They came from Ferguson, from Grasslands, and the Whitney office. In the two latter cases they were conciliatory and apologetic and asked that Miss Maitland would see the senders and explain the circumstances that had so strangely involved her in the case. To both her employers and the Whitneys Miss Maitland returned an evasive answer. She would be happy to do as they asked, but would have to let a few more days pass before she would be free to speak. Meantime she would remain with Mrs. O’Malley, who had offered to keep her, and who had treated her with the utmost kindness and consideration. One request she made—this to the Whitneys—she would like Chapman Price to be advised of her whereabouts. It would be necessary for her to communicate with him before she would be able to explain her share in the mystery.