“Well, as I said, she must have come here that Sunday night, for one of the boarders at the house she lives in saw her cross the snowy field. Also, the footprints just fitted her shoes. Also, the tracks led right up on the side porch here to that long French window. And led right back again to the Adams house.” “Whew!” Fibsy exploded, “aren’t you rubbing it in?” “Well, that’s what they tell me—” Trask asserted, doggedly, “and I want you to know it all, Mr. Stone, before the other people tell you a garbled version.” “Go on.” “Then, they say, the girl left marks of her dress trimming on that chair, and Lockwood, the secretary, rubbed them off next morning, as soon as the body was discovered. We have the word of two witnesses for this episode.” “Who are the witnesses?” “Ito, the Japanese butler, and Miss Peyton, who lives in this house.” “Go on.” “Well, then, ever since the tragedy, Miss Austin has acted queer. Queer in all sorts of ways. She is sad and desolate one minute, and saucy and independent the next. I can’t make her out at all. And she is more than half in love with this Lockwood. I have to cut him out, you see. And I figure, if you prove the case against Miss Austin, and if I agree to marry her and hush up the whole matter, and make it seem a suicide—” “You figure that she’ll throw over the secretary for you,” cried Fibsy, his eyes aghast at the man’s plan. “Exactly that. You see, Mr. Stone, I don’t try to deceive you. While I have a natural sorrow at my cousin’s death, yet remember that I never knew him in life, and that, while I want to avenge his death in any case but one, I do not want to if it implicates Anita Austin.” “I understand,” said Stone, seemingly not so shocked at the conversation as his assistant was. “There’s another queer thing,” said Trask. “They tell me that when the body was found there was the impress of a ring on the forehead.” “A seal ring?” “Oh, no. Not a finger ring, but a circle, about two inches across, a red mark, as if it had been made as a sign or symbol of some sort.” “It remained on the flesh?” “Until the embalming process took place. That removed it. I didn’t see it, but I’m told it was a clearly defined circle, quite evidently impressed with some intent.” “Sounds like a sign of a secret society,” Fibsy suggested, but Stone paid no heed. “Let’s reconstruct the case,” he said; “Waring sat at his desk his secretary outside in that hall?” “Yes; the Japanese, the other one, the one that disappeared, brought in water, and then Doctor Waring closed the door and locked it.” “Immediately?” “I don’t know that, but anyway, no one that we know of saw him again alive. Nogi is under no suspicion, for after he came out of the room, the Doctor rose and locked the door. Lockwood can’t be suspected, as he heard the door locked, and couldn’t get in. He _is_ more or less suspected because of his penholder, but much as I should like to think him the criminal, I know he isn’t.”