As she took short cuts across the lawns, Vera kept a sharp look-out; but no one was in sight. She had expected this; for if anyone had been in the vicinity of the Maze they would assuredly have been attracted by Howard’s shouts for assistance. She wasted no time in seeking in the gardens for help, but hurried at her best speed to the house, where she could at least get in touch with the police by means of the telephone. When, breathless with the last spurt she had made, she entered the hall, she found it empty. The whole place seemed deserted and silent. For a moment she thought of searching from room to room; but she changed her mind almost immediately. “I must keep my head,” she impressed on herself. “I know nothing about the servants’ quarters and I’d lose time if I begin hunting. That last sprint took it out of me; and I’m not fit to rush about. Someone else must do that instead.” She passed into the nearest room and rang the bell, keeping her finger pressed down on the button. “That ought to bring them quick enough.” In a few moments she heard steps, and one of the maids appeared. The sight of her amazed face reminded Vera of the picture she herself must present: dishevelled, breathless, and without shoes on her feet. “Are there any men in the house, Shelton? Quick, don’t waste time.” The maid stared at the haggard girl before her as though in this strange figure she could hardly recognise the cool and graceful Miss Forrest of normal life. “What’s come to you, miss?” she asked, without replying to the question. “Mr. Shandon’s been murdered. Is Mr. Stenness here, or Mr. Hawkhurst? Or anyone else? Go and find them immediately, if they’re anywhere about.” Then, as the girl still seemed dazed by the news: “Can’t you do as I tell you? Hurry! There’s no time to lose.” A picture rose in her mind of the murderer returning to the Maze and coming upon the defenceless Howard. Unlikely, of course, but after this afternoon she would be slow to call anything unlikely. The maid’s slowness irritated her overwrought nerves. “_Will_ you go?” But by this time the idea of murder had penetrated the dull mind of Shelton and produced a reaction which Vera had not foreseen. “Mr. Shandon murdered, and the man creeping about the place! I’d never dare to go out of this room, miss. He might be in the hall now, waiting for me. Oh, oh!” Her voice rose in hysteria. Vera looked at her wearily. “Want to scream, Shelton? Perhaps it’s the easiest way after all. I’d have done it myself if I’d had any breath left. Come along with me.” And taking the hysterical girl with her, she made her way to the front door. “Now scream as loud as you like.” Shelton had not waited for the suggestion. Already she was shrieking at the top of her voice. “Anybody in the house or near it ought to hear that,” Vera said to herself contentedly, as Shelton continued to screech. “Now, that’ll do. Will you be quiet? I want to listen if anyone has heard you.”