As they walked back Bassett told his story. He noticed that the younger man’s questions were sharp and to the point and before they had gone half-way realized that Rawson was of a much higher grade of education and intelligence than his coadjutor. A smart chap, he thought, and felt his burden lightened--they could do good teamwork. Stopping by the edge of the pine wood he pointed out the scene of the shooting and was again struck by the man’s quick comprehension. Moving on, Williams observed with grim relish: “You couldn’t have a murder committed in a better place than this--better for us. Once you’re on here it’s a damned hard business getting off. These folks are as good as in prison. Now, Mr. Bassett, just where does that causeway lie?” The channel stretched before them, a shining expanse, ripple-creased, summits of rock emerging. The receding water was like a silver veil being slowly withdrawn, its delicate tissue torn by sharp-edged projections. Bassett pointed beyond the wharf: “There! Below the water there are steps cut in the rock that lead down to it. It goes straight across to a breakwater and landing outside the village, a bank and a belt of trees above. The whole stretch won’t be clear till nearly midnight.” Williams gave his instructions to the man Patrick--a watch on the causeway, any one stopped who came from the mainland or attempted to leave the island. Patrick, a silent massive countryman, with a stolid bull-dog face, thrust out his chin and nodded. He slouched off, the sound of his heavy boots loud on the rocks. The others turned toward the house, the light from its opened door falling outward in a long golden square. The occupants of the room heard them and looked at one another. Mrs. Cornell, with clenched hands, slowly stood up, and the rest, like people in church who see a figure rise and simultaneously follow its example, got to their feet. They stood by their chairs, motionless, all facing the same way. It was like an ensemble scene in a theater. The three men entered and under the shadow of the gallery paused for a moment surveying the standing figures much as they might have looked at some spectacle arranged for their approval. William was surprised at their number and their line ranged like a battle front. Rawson’s sharp eye ran over the faces, mentally ticketing them, and Bassett, with no precedent to guide him, walked toward his associates and announced: “Ladies and gentlemen, the authorities have come. Mr. Rawson and Mr. Williams.” They bowed and then not knowing what to do next, subsided into their seats. The men came forward, moving to the long table where Williams sat down, fumbling in his pocket for a fountain pen and paper and clearing a space for the taking of notes. Rawson, surveying the seated assemblage, said: “This is the whole of your company, Mr. Bassett?”