“The Frog wanted to marry you?” said Ray with a frown. “It is incredible! Did you see his face?” She shook her head. “He was masked,” she said. “Don’t let us talk about it.” She got up quickly and began to clear away the meal, and, for the first time for many years, Ray helped her. “A terrible night,” she said, coming back from the kitchen. “The wind burst open the window and blew out the lamp, and the rain is coming down in torrents!” “All nights are good nights to me,” said Ray, and in his chuckle she detected a little sob. No word had been spoken since they met of his terrible ordeal; it was tacitly agreed that that nightmare should remain in the region of bad dreams, and only now and again did he betray the horror of those three weeks of waiting. “Bolt the back door, darling,” said John Bennett, looking up as she went out. The two men sat smoking, each busy with his own thoughts. Then Ray spoke of Lola. “I do not think she was bad, father,” he said. “She could not have known what was going to happen. The thing was so diabolically planned that even to the very last, until I learnt from Gordon the true story, I was under the impression that I had killed Brady. This man must have the brain of a general.” Bennett nodded. “I always used to think,” Ray went on, “that Maitland had something to do with the Frogs. I suppose he had, really. I first guessed that much after he turned up at Heron’s Club—what is the matter?” “Ella!” called the old man. There was no answer from the kitchen. “I don’t want her to stay out there, washing up. Ray, boy, call her in.” Ray got up and opened the door of the kitchen. It was in darkness. “Bring the lamp, father,” he called, and John Bennett came hurrying after him. The door of the kitchen was closed but not bolted. Something white lay on the floor, and Ray stooped to pick it up. It was a torn portion of the apron which Ella had been wearing. The two men looked at one another, and Ray, running up to his room, came down with a storm lantern, which he lit. “She may be in the garden,” he said in a strained voice, and, throwing open the door, went out into the storm. The rain beat down unmercifully; the men were wet through before they had gone a dozen yards. Ray held the light down to the ground. There were tracks of many feet in the soft mud, and presently he found one of Ella’s. The tracks disappeared on to the edge of the lawn, but they were making straight for the side gate which opened into a narrow lane. This passage-way connected the road with a meadow behind Maytree Cottage, and the roadway gate was usually kept chained and padlocked. Ray was the first to see the car tracks, and then he found that the gate was open and the broken chain lay in the muddy roadway. Running out into the road, he saw that the tracks turned to the right. “We had better search the garden first to make absolutely sure, father,” he said. “I will arouse some of the cottagers and get them to help.”