Grant positively started, but he looked at the policeman squarely. “It is strange you should ask me that,” he said. “Last night, while searching for a book, I saw a face at the window. It was that window,” and four pairs of eyes followed his pointing finger. “The face, I now believe, was that of the dead woman. At the moment, as it vanished instantly, I persuaded myself that I was the victim of some trick of the imagination. Still, I opened the other window, looked out and listened, but heard or saw nothing or no one. As I say, I fancied I had imagined that which was not. Now I know I was wrong.” “About what o’clock would this be, Mr. Grant?” “Shortly before eleven. I came in at a quarter past ten, and began to work. After writing steadily for a little more than half an hour, I wanted to consult a book, and lighted a candle which I keep for that purpose. I found the book, and was about to blow out the candle when I saw the face.” Robinson wrote in his note-book:— “Called to _The Hollies_ to investigate case of supposed murder. Body of woman found in river. Mr. Grant, occupying _The Hollies_, says that woman’s name is Adelaide Melhuish”—at this point he paused to ascertain the spelling—“and he saw her face at a window of the house at 10.45 P.M., last night.” “Well, sir, and what next?” he went on. “It seems to me that the next thing is to have the unfortunate lady removed to some more suitable place than the river bank,” said Grant, rather impatiently. “My story can wait, and so can Bates’s. He knows all that I know, and has probably told you already how we came to discover the body. You can see for yourself that she must have been murdered. It is an extraordinary, I may even say a phenomenal crime, which certainly cannot be investigated here and now. I advise you to have the body taken to the village mortuary, or such other place as serves local needs in that respect, and summon a doctor. Then, if you and an inspector will call here, I’ll give you all the information I possess, which is very little, I may add.” Robinson began solemnly to jot down a summary of Grant’s words, and thereby stirred the owner of _The Hollies_ to a fury which was repressed with difficulty. Realizing, however, the absolute folly of expressing any resentment, Grant turned, and, without meaning it, looked again in the direction of the cottage on the crest of the opposite bank. This time a girl was leaning out of the dormer window. She had shaded her eyes with a hand, because the sun was streaming into her face, but when she saw that Grant was looking her way she waved a handkerchief. He fluttered his own blood-stained handkerchief in brief acknowledgment, and wheeled about, only to find P. C. Robinson watching him furtively, having suspended his note-taking for the purpose. Chapter II. P. C. Robinson “Takes a Line”