"There are cartridges on the floor--" "Cartridges?" "Cartridge shells, I mean, empty, near both those spots of blood. There are cartridge shells near the fireplace; but no blood there." "Yes; the bullets?" "There are marks everywhere--above the mantel, all about." "Yes." "There is a bar of iron with a bent end near the table--between it and the window; there are two flashlights, both extinguished." "How was the safe opened?" "The combination has been cut completely away; there is an--an instrument connected with the electric-light fixture which seems to have done the cutting. There is a hand-drill, too--I think it is a hand-drill. The inner door has been drilled through, and the catches drawn back." "Who is this?" The valet, who had been sent to Eaton's room, had returned with his report. "Mr. Eaton went from his room fully dressed, sir," he said to Santoine, "except for his shoes. I found all his shoes in his room." During the report, the blind man felt his daughter's grasp on his arm become tense and relax and tighten again. Then, as though she realized she was adding to his comprehension of what she had already betrayed, she suddenly took her hand from her father's arm. Santoine turned his face toward his daughter. Another twinge racked the tumult of his emotions. He groped and groped again, trying to catch his daughter's hand; but she avoided him. She directed servants to lift Blatchford's body and told them where to bear it. After that, Santoine resisted no longer. He let the servants, at his daughter's direction, help him to his room. His daughter went with him and saw that he was safe in bed; she stood beside him while the nurse washed the blood-splotches from his hands and feet. When the nurse had finished, he still felt his daughter's presence; she drew nearer to him. "Father?" she questioned. "Yes." "You don't agree with Donald, do you?--that Mr. Eaton went to the study to--to get something, and that whoever has been following him found him there and--and interrupted him and he killed Cousin Wallace?" Santoine was silent an instant. "That seems the correct explanation, Harriet," he evaded. "It does not fully explain; but it seems correct as far as it goes. If Donald asks you what my opinion is, tell him it is that." He felt his daughter shrink away from him.