"It was you!" she cried hoarsely, pointing an accusing finger. "She heard you in the cellar--you frightened her--you drove her to it!" "That's nonsense, Miss Kingdon," broke in Godfrey sternly, "and you know it! How could we drive her to suicide?" "What was it, then?" she demanded. "I've had enough of this mystery." Godfrey looked at her keenly. "You really don't know?" She shook her head, staring mutely up at him, fascinated by the purpose in his face. "She was deeply devoted to Miss Lawrence, wasn't she?" "Yes." "More devoted than you?" A sudden flush overspread Lucy Kingdon's face, giving place in a moment to deadly pallor. "Perhaps," she admitted hoarsely. "But that had nothing to do with it. That was no reason!" "No," assented Godfrey; "not in itself. But it was at the bottom of it--for it led to something totally unforeseen." She shook herself together. "You're speaking in riddles," she said. "It's scarcely fair." "Pardon me," said Godfrey instantly. "I don't want to be unfair. Come with me and I'll show you the cause of this act. Bring the lamp, Lester." Together we crossed the kitchen to the door which gave entrance to the cellar stairs. It seemed to me that Miss Kingdon shrank back a little as she saw where we were taking her. But it may have been only my fancy. Certainly she followed promptly enough when Godfrey started down. At the foot he paused. "You've not been down here for some days, I take it, Miss Kingdon?" he asked. "No," she answered, her eyes glancing from right to left. "I very seldom come down here. Harriet always attended to the household affairs. But I see nothing wrong." "Come this way," and he passed around the angle of the wall into the recess. "Some one has been digging," she said, as her eyes fell upon the heap of dirt. "Yes; what was this recess for, Miss Kingdon?" "We had intended placing a furnace here," she said, "but after the house was finished, we decided that a furnace wasn't needed. Who has been digging here? You?" and her eyes again examined our earth-stained clothes. "It was your sister dug the hole, and then filled it again, as you see." "My sister?" "Yes--she worked at it last night, and again to-night, when she thought herself secure from interruption." "But why?" she asked, in bewilderment. "Because she had something to conceal. This hole is a grave, Miss Kingdon. See there." He flashed a ray from his electric torch full upon the leering face staring up at us. Lucy Kingdon gazed down at it for a moment with distended eyes. Then, with a deep sigh, she sank backward to the floor. CHAPTER XIX Under Suspicion We carried her up the stair and placed her on a couch in the room where her sister lay. "She's only fainted," Godfrey said. "Put some water on her face and chafe her hands. She'll soon come around. I must be off, or I'll miss my scoop, after all." "All right," I agreed. "I'll wait here. You'd better notify the police."