“My presence can be attributed to idle curiosity,” was Thorne’s tranquil answer as the men gathered about him. “I was passing the cabin, saw the door standing ajar, and entered. I had been here only a very few minutes when I heard a shot and tearing aside that screen,” pointing to it, “saw poor Noyes fall to the floor. I had just taken the revolver from him when you entered so spectacularly.” Anthony did not miss a word of Thorne’s explanation. “You claim, then, that you did not know anyone else was in the cabin until you heard the shot?” “I mean exactly that,” with emphasis. “I thought I was alone in the cabin. I haven’t the faintest idea what brought Dr. Noyes, the English surgeon who is visiting the Porters,” he interpolated, “to this cabin.” “He can explain that when he regains consciousness,” exclaimed Anthony. “It will not take us long to carry him to the Porters’, if you think it safe to move him.” “I do.” And Thorne made ready to rise from his place by Noyes. “By the way, before hearing the report of Noyes’ revolver, I heard a shot--who fired the _first_ shot?” “That is for you to explain.” Anthony stooped under a table and picked up a revolver. With a deft turn of his wrist he opened the breech. “One chamber has been fired.” CHAPTER XX KA DETECTIVE Mitchell hung up the telephone receiver and sat glaring at the instrument. “Well, I’m d--ned!” he muttered. It was some moments before he rose and went in search of Cato, but although he hunted through the entire first floor of Thornedale and called upstairs until he was hoarse, Mitchell was unable to find the old negro, and at last gave up the search. Over an hour had elapsed since the departure of Anthony, the Secret Service agent, and still Thorne had not returned. Mitchell’s impatience got the better of him, and, not troubling to leave a written message, he left the house and walked rapidly to Dewdrop Inn. Mrs. Porter, dressed for walking, was standing in the front doorway as Mitchell came up the steps, and she greeted his appearance with a frown. “Do you desire to see me?” she inquired. “I am just going out.” Mitchell, however, did not stand aside for her to walk past him. “I am very sorry, madam, to detain you,” he said firmly. “But it is imperative that I have a talk with you at once.” Mrs. Porter whitened under her rouge. “It is quite unnecessary to adopt that tone to me,” she retorted. “I can spare you a few minutes, not more. Walk inside,” and she stepped back into the hall. Mitchell closed the front door with a bang and tossed his hat and overcoat on the hall table. “Has Dr. Alan Noyes returned from the court house?” he asked. “Not yet.” Mrs. Porter moistened her lips nervously. “I expect him here at any moment.” “Suppose we go into the library,” suggested Mitchell, seeing that she made no sign to admit him further into the house. “Then, kindly oblige me by sending for Miss Deane.”