And then as our glances met, Bartley, for one of the few times in his life, uttered an oath and started to run toward the library. As the rest of us stood, hesitatingly, Bartley turned—turned to cry back at us in a voice that shook a little: “For God's sake, hurry! We may be just in time to prevent another murder, and this time the most horrible one of all.” Chapter XVI The Voice in the Dark It had been an afternoon filled with unexpected things. But even the murder of the gardener had not startled me as much as the horrified exclamation of Bartley. No one thought of disbelieving him or even questioning what he had said. There would not have been time for the latter, for he was running up the hill in the direction of the library. Without a word Ranville had started after him, and after our first stunned second of surprise Carter, Patton and I followed. What Bartley had meant by saying we might be in time to prevent another murder I could not understand; but the tone of conviction in his voice when he had said this was overwhelming. He knew something of which the rest of us had not the slightest idea. He reached the library before we did. In fact, when we went up on the veranda and paused at the open door, he was talking to the chief very seriously and quickly. We had no time to enter the room before he came to our side. Just as we followed him down the steps, he turned and called to the chief, who had come to the door: “Remember; say nothing to any one about the murder of the gardener. Wait until you hear from me.” We hurried down the path and out to the car waiting before the iron gate. Carter climbed into the front seat, and Ranville and I took the back seat with Bartley. At his command to rush to the house, Carter guided the car around in a sweeping curve, and started down the street. In a moment we were going over fifty miles an hour. I shot a glance at Bartley. He was leaning back in his seat, but I could tell that his body was tense. There was a burning flame in his eyes, and his lips were shut in a thin line. As the car swept around the bend and then headed straight for Carter's, Ranville asked in a questioning voice: “You have found something, John?” There came a quick response. “I think so. It may be that I am wrong. To me it seems the theory I have is the only solution there can be to this case. I had a theory when you told me of Warren's death—a vague one. Now the death of the gardener makes it the only solution in sight.” “It seemed a crazy thing to kill the gardener,” was Ranville's comment. Bartley gave him one quick look. The car was lurching into Carter's drive and was already on the verge of stopping. As it came to a pause, Bartley answered the questioning comment of the Englishman. “Yes,” was the only thing he said.