"Prepare yourself," I cautioned her quickly. "Something has happened to your father." She stared across at Gird's body, and then she screamed, tremulously and long. Zoberg caught her in his arms, and she swayed and shuddered against their supporting circle. From her own wrists my irons still dangled, and they clanked as she wrung her hands in aimless distraction. Going to the dead man once more, I unchained him from the chair and turned him upon his back. Susan's black cloak lay upon one of the other chairs, and I picked it up and spread it above him. Then I went to each door in turn, and to the windows. "The seals are unbroken," I reported. "There isn't a space through which even a mouse could slip in or out. Yet----" "I did it!" wailed Susan suddenly. "Oh, my God, what dreadful thing came out of me to murder my father!" * * * * * I unfastened the parlor door and opened it. Almost at the same time a loud knock sounded from the front of the house. Zoberg lifted his head, nodding to me across Susan's trembling shoulder. His arms were still clasped around her, and I could not help but notice that they seemed thin and ineffectual now. When I had chained them, I had wondered at their steely cording. Had this awful calamity drained him of strength? "Go," he said hoarsely. "See who it is." I went. Opening the front door, I came face to face with a tall, angular silhouette in a slouch hat with snow on the brim. "Who are you?" I jerked out, startled. "O'Bryant," boomed back an organ-deep bass. "What's the fuss here?" "Well----" I began, then hesitated. "Stranger in town, ain't you?" was the next question. "I saw you when you stopped at the Luther Inn. I'm O'Bryant--the constable." He strode across the door-sill, peered about him in the dark, and then slouched into the lighted dining-room. Following, I made him out as a stern, roughly dressed man of forty or so, with a lean face made strong by a salient chin and a simitar nose. His light blue eyes studied the still form of John Gird, and he stooped to draw away the cloak. Susan gave another agonized cry, and I heard Zoberg gasp as if deeply shocked. The constable, too, flinched and replaced the cloak more quickly than he had taken it up. "Who done that?" he barked at me. Again I found it hard to answer. Constable O'Bryant sniffed suspiciously at each of us in turn, took up the lamp and herded us into the parlor. There he made us take seats. "I want to know everything about this business," he said harshly. "You," he flung at me, "you seem to be the closest to sensible. Give me the story, and don't leave out a single bit of it." Thus commanded, I made shift to describe the séance and what had led up to it. I was as uneasy as most innocent people are when unexpectedly questioned by peace officers. O'Bryant interrupted twice with a guttural "Huh!" and once with a credulous whistle.