Cotherstone set down the cigars and opened the dining-room door. A youngish, fresh-coloured man, who looked upset and startled, came out of the hall, glancing round him inquiringly. "Sorry to intrude, Mr. Cotherstone," he said. "I say!--that old gentleman you let the cottage to--Kitely, you know." "What of him?" demanded Cotherstone sharply. "He's lying there in the coppice above your house--I stumbled over him coming through there just now," replied Garthwaite. "He--don't be frightened, Miss Cotherstone--he's--well, there's no doubt of it--he's dead! And----" "And--what?" asked Cotherstone. "What, man? Out with it!" "And I should say, murdered!" said Garthwaite. "I--yes, I just saw enough to say that. Murdered--without a doubt!" CHAPTER IV THE PINE WOOD Brereton, standing back in the room, the cigar which Cotherstone had just given him unlighted in one hand, the glass which Lettie had presented to him in the other, was keenly watching the man who had just spoken and the man to whom he spoke. But all his attention was quickly concentrated on Cotherstone. For despite a strong effort to control himself, Cotherstone swayed a little, and instinctively put out a hand and clutched Bent's arm. He paled, too--the sudden spasm of pallor was almost instantly succeeded by a quick flush of colour. He made another effort--and tried to laugh. "Nonsense, man!" he said thickly and hoarsely. "Murder? Who should want to kill an old chap like that? It's--here, give me a drink, one of you--that's--a bit startling!" Bent seized a tumbler which he himself had just mixed, and Cotherstone gulped off half its contents. He looked round apologetically. "I--I think I'm not as strong as I was," he muttered. "Overwork, likely--I've been a bit shaky of late. A shock like that----" "I'm sorry," said Garthwaite, who looked surprised at the effect of his news. "I ought to have known better. But you see, yours is the nearest house----" "Quite right, my lad, quite right," exclaimed Cotherstone. "You did the right thing. Here!--we'd better go up. Have you called the police?" "I sent the man from the cottage at the foot of your garden," answered Garthwaite. "He was just locking up as I passed, so I told him, and sent him off." "We'll go," said Cotherstone. He looked round at his guests. "You'll come?" he asked. "Don't you go, father," urged Lettie, "if you're not feeling well." "I'm all right," insisted Cotherstone. "A mere bit of weakness--that's all. Now that I know what's to be faced--" he twisted suddenly on Garthwaite--"what makes you think it's murder?" he demanded. "Murder! That's a big word." Garthwaite glanced at Lettie, who was whispering to Bent, and shook his head. "Tell you when we get outside," he said. "I don't want to frighten your daughter."