The woods muffled his voice. There was no answer. Nor was there, he noticed, any crackling of twigs or rustling of dead leaves. If there had been a woman there she had fled noiselessly, yet, as he went on around the lake, his own progress was distinctly audible through the decay of autumn. It was too dark on the other side to detect any traces of a recent human presence in the thicket. He couldn't quiet, however, the feeling that he had had a glimpse of a woman clothed in black who had studied him secretly across the stagnant stretch of the lake. On the other hand, there was no logic in a woman's presence here at such an hour, no logic in a stranger's running away from him. While he pondered the night invaded the forest completely, making it impossible for him to search farther. It had grown so dark, indeed, that he found his way out with difficulty. The branches caught at his clothing. The underbrush tangled itself about his feet. It was as if the thicket were trying to hold him away from the house. As he entered the court he noticed a discoloured glow diffusing itself through the curtains of the room of death. He opened the front door. Paredes and Graham alone sat by the fire. "Then they're not through yet," Bobby said. Graham arose. He commenced to pace the length of the hall. "They've had Katherine in that room. One would think she'd been through enough. Now they've sent for the servants." Paredes laughed lightly. "After this," he said, "I'm afraid, Bobby, you'll need the powers of the police to keep servants in your house." Muttering, frightened voices came from the dining-room. Jenkins entered, and, shaking his head, went up the stairs. The two women who followed him, were in tears. They paused, as if seeking an excuse to linger on the lower floor, to postpone as long as possible their entrance of the room of death. Ella, a pretty girl, whose dark hair and eyes suggested a normal vivacity, spoke to Bobby. "It's outrageous, Mr. Robert. He found out all we knew this morning. What's he after now? You might think we'd murdered Mr. Blackburn." Jane was older. An ugly scar crossed her cheek. It was red and like an open wound as she demanded that Bobby put a stop to these inquisitions. "I can do nothing," he said. "Go on up and answer or they can make trouble for you." Muttering again to each other, they followed Jenkins, and in the lower hall the three men waited. Jenkins came down first. His face was white. It twitched. "The body!" he mouthed. "It's moved! I saw it before." He stretched out his hands to Bobby. "That's why they wanted us, to find out where we were this afternoon, and everything we've done, as if we might have gone there, and disturbed--" Angry voices in the upper hall interrupted him. The two women ran down, as white as Jenkins. At an impatient nod from Bobby the three servants went on to the kitchen. Howells, the coroner, and Doctor Groom descended.