"Yes, sir; I saw his face by the light. I thought it strange, tied my horse and followed him. He went a long way into the woods to a hut, and waited a couple of hours with the light. Then another man came, and they had a quarrel. There was a terrible noise, and then the light went out and they disappeared. I went back to my horse and have just got here." "Who was with Skinner?" "I don't know, sir. I was facing the door of the hut, but it was too dark to see. They worked with a dark lantern." We had quietly walked our horses up to the gate while listening to Maloney. Oakes's eyes were upon the ground. Suddenly he looked up. "Thank you very much, Maloney. You have done well in reporting to me. I will see Chief Hallen; this is a matter, perhaps, for the police, certainly not for me, to work on." Wheeling our horses, we darted to the Corners and on toward Mona. Quintus Oakes was very quiet; he seemed annoyed--or nonplussed--and the pace that he set was terrific. As we neared the town we slowed up, and I asked excitedly of the taciturn man by my side: "Tell me, what's up?" He turned slightly in his saddle. "Maloney was there; he acknowledged it. So far he told the truth; but he _lied_ about returning on horseback. There were no hoof-marks going toward the stable--none entered the Mansion gate. And he lied also about his brother in Lorona, for there is no such relative of his there; Maloney has no brothers or sisters hereabouts." I now remembered Oakes's careful scrutiny of the ground while we were talking with Maloney, and I also realized how close was the net he had spread about everyone at the Mansion. "If Maloney was at the hut, how did he get back ahead of us?" I asked. "Ran, of course--took the inside way through the woods; he knows the paths well. He may not only have been _near_ the hut, Stone, he may have been _in_ it. If so, he tried to kill Skinner, for the old man had money." Then Oakes continued: "Perhaps it was Maloney who was about to get away, if he could. But he can't," the detective added with a sardonic laugh, as he closed his jaws firmly. "But," I exclaimed, "suppose it was Maloney, what of O'Brien? He was there; we have his shirt--in part at least." "Oh, bother O'Brien! he makes me tired," cried Oakes enigmatically; "he will get himself into trouble some day." "Yes, yes," I contended; "but he too has strong arms and a strong wrist and could have used the revolver." "Surely! So could many men. These clues are merely the primary ones. Many men answer their requirements. They are worth very little by themselves. They simply point to a certain type of man. They are simply _links_, as yet unforged into the chain." "But one thing more, Oakes," I cried, "why should Maloney volunteer the information that he was at the place if he had no good excuse for being there?"