"That's my brave girl," and Landon smiled at his wife; "I'll guarantee that Milly won't make any trouble, either. Once she's awake to a duty, she's bold as a lion. Now, see here, if Crawford stirs up suspicion of any of us, we'll have to deal with him pretty roughly, I fear. He's a pig-headed sort, and he will move heaven and earth to gain his point. Moreover, we can't expect him to subscribe to spook theories, any more than those men Rudolph talked to in New York. One has to go through some such experiences as we have, to believe in them. You, Professor, would never have been convinced by hearsay evidence, would you?" "No, sir, I would not! It took these otherwise inexplicable happenings to prove to me that there is but one way to look. Even a coroner can't produce a human criminal who could kill those two people the way they were killed, and who could get into and out of this house and take a human body with him! The thing is preposterous!" "You know the doors and windows were all locked?" asked Braye, thoughtfully. "I looked after them, myself," said Landon. "I always do. After the last one goes upstairs for the night, I invariably look after the locking up. And the house, properly locked, is impregnable. The servants' quarters are shut off and locked; there is absolutely no way of getting in from outside." "Going back to Jennings' theory," mused Braye, "could we suspect old Thorpe?" "Not for a minute," declared Landon. "And, too, he wasn't in the hall when they died. No, I'd trust Thorpe as far as I would any of ourselves. But, there's Stebbins. I've never felt sure that he's entirely trustworthy." "Even so," said Braye, "he wasn't here when--when they died." "No, he wasn't. I can't see any way he could have arranged things unless he poisoned the cake----" "Rubbish, Wynne!" cried Eve, "you know we all ate that cake. Do be rational." "But Mr. Bruce was poisoned, Eve, we can't get away from that." "Of course he was," broke in Hardwick, "and doubtless Vernie was too, but it was not done by human agency." "Well, there we go, reasoning round in a circle," murmured Norma; "I think our talk is useless, when we surmise and speculate about it all. Let us decide on our immediate plans. Shall you send Mr. Bruce's body to Chicago, and stay here yourself, Rudolph?" "Yes, as I look at it now. I can't see anything else to do." Nor was there anything else to do. For Doctor Crawford persisted in treating the case as a criminal one, and requested that all concerned remain at Black Aspens for the present, with a hint that unless they did so, the request might become a command. "Then you think the two people were murdered?" asked Landon of the county physician. "I don't say that, for sure; but when a man drops dead, and a trace of poison is found in his stomach, it looks mighty like an intention of death on some one's part,--maybe the man himself. There's a show of suicide, you know." "But Gifford Bruce never would commit suicide!"