“Here we are at the path leading to the house,” said Nick, “and we may as well find out what Charley Maynard is thinking of. How does he take the loss of his diamonds now that the excitement has worn off?” “Like the sensible fellow that he is,” was the reply. “And it has been discovered that he is not broke if he never gets the diamonds. He was Alvin’s favorite, and the old man was rich. Charley gets a couple of millions.” “Then he can well afford to take the matter coolly,” said Nick, “for——” But the sentence was never finished. Two revolver shots came from a thicket in the orchard. Then, in the moonlight, two spiral puffs of smoke crept upward. It was a close call, but the bullets did no harm. CHAPTER VII. AT FOUR O’CLOCK. “That was going some,” said Chick coolly. Nick did not wait to make reply. He rushed the thicket whence the shots had come, but arrived too late to find the would-be murderer there. When Chick reached the spot, he found his chief down on his knees examining the earth, lantern in hand. As the assistant came up, Nick shut off the flash, and moved away from the spot. “Now,” said Chick, “that shows that there are people about here who are implicated in the happenings of last night. They evidently think we are getting too inquisitive.” Nick walked on toward the house without making reply. He was thinking fast. Once more his clues were pointing in a contrary direction. “Those shots were intended to defend the murderer and not the diamond thief,” he mused. “Now, I wonder if the people up here have fallen into my trap?” Arrived at the house, Nick and Chick, after a moment’s conversation with Mrs. Maynard and Charley, proceeded to the second floor of the mansion. Nick stopped at the head of the stairs with a smile on his face. The stairs and the halls had been swept and washed during the day, thus removing every trace of the record left by naked feet the night before. Nick hastened to the closet in Anton’s room. When he came out again, the smile on his face had broadened. His next move was to visit the hallway used by the servants in reaching the rooms over the main part of the house. This, too, had been cleaned, and tiny marks which Nick had observed on the door in the morning had been obliterated. In one place the paint had been partially rubbed from the door casing in scrubbing off a stain. The detective turned toward the lower part of the house. “The case up here is closed,” he said. Chick opened his eyes, but said nothing. Nick went to the back end of the house and asked for Bernice. “She’s gone,” said one of the servants. “Gone where?” “To the city,” was the reply. Nick smiled and turned away. He remembered distinctly of having caught a glimpse of the girl at one of the upper windows just before entering the orchard, perhaps five minutes before the shooting.