"Time," Graham said, "lessens such facts--even for the police." Bobby glanced at him, flushing. "You mean you've decided to stand by me after what happened last night?" Graham smiled. "I've thought it all over. I slept like a top last night. I heard nothing. I saw nothing." "Ought I to want you to stand by me?" Bobby said. "Oughtn't I to make a clean breast of it? At least I must do something about Paredes." Graham frowned. "It's hard to believe he had any connection with your sleep-walking last night, yet it's as clear as ever that Maria and he are up to some game in which you figure." "He shouldn't be in jail," Bobby persisted. "Get up," Graham advised. "Bathe, and have some breakfast, then we can decide. There's no use talking of the other thing. I've forgotten it. As far as possible you must." Bobby sprang upright. "How can I forget it? If it was hard to face sleep before, what do you think it is now? Have I any right--" "Don't," Graham said. "I'll be with you again to-night. If I were satisfied beyond the shadow of a doubt I'd advise you to confess, but I can't be until I know what Maria and Paredes are doing." When Bobby had bathed and dressed he found, in spite of his mental turmoil, that his sleep had done him good. While he breakfasted Graham urged him to eat, tried to drive from his brain the morbid aftermath of last night's revealing moment. "The manager took my advice, but Maria's still missing. Her pictures are in most of the papers. There have been reporters here this morning, about the murders." He strolled over and handed Bobby a number of newspapers. "Where's Robinson?" Bobby asked. "I saw him in the court a while ago. I daresay he's wandering around--perhaps watching the men at the grave." "He learned nothing new last night?" "I was with him at breakfast. I gather not." Bobby looked up. "Isn't that an automobile coming through the woods?" he asked. "Maybe Rawlins back from Smithtown, or the minister." The car stopped at the entrance of the court. They heard the remote tinkling of the front door bell. Jenkins passed through. The cold air invading the hall and the dining room told them he had opened the door. His sharp exclamation recalled Howells's report which, at their direction, he had failed to mail. Had his exclamation been drawn by an accuser? Bobby started to rise. Graham moved toward the door. Then Jenkins entered and stood to one side. Bobby shared his astonishment, for Paredes walked in, unbuttoning his overcoat, the former easy-mannered, uncommunicative foreigner. He appeared, moreover, to have slept pleasantly. His eyes showed no weariness, his clothing no disarrangement. He spoke at once, quite as if nothing disagreeable had shadowed his departure. "Good morning. If I had dreamed of this change in the weather I would have brought a heavier overcoat. I've nearly frozen driving from Smithtown."