"Murdered!" Drelincourt staggered back a pace or two, and then, putting forth his right hand, he caught hold of an oak sapling and gripped it hard. For a few seconds his body rocked like that of a man whose brain has been stunned and dizzied by some great shock. "That is indeed a terrible discovery to have made," he went on, after a pause. "Kate dead! It seems incredible; altogether beyond belief." "For all that, it is true." "But what possible motive could any one have for the commission of such a crime?" Roden's thin lips tightened. Evidently the question was one which he either would not or could not answer. "When and by whom was the discovery made?" asked Mr. Drelincourt, after a brief pause. "It was made by Lucille, nearly a couple of hours ago. She went as usual to take her mistress an early cup of chocolate, and--and found her dead in bed." "Go on. Tell me all the particulars known to you." "Mrs. Drelincourt had been stabbed to the heart, most probably while she was asleep." "So! Has the weapon with which the deed was committed been found?" "It had not when I left the Towers." Drelincourt seated himself on the fallen trunk, and resting his elbows on his knees, he bent his eyes on the ground. "As soon as the crime became known," resumed the other, "I sent off a groom on horseback to fetch Dr. Carew. On the way he met Mr. Ormsby and told him the news, and was ordered by him to at once communicate with the police." "A very proper thing to do." "Mr. Ormsby, accompanied by another gentleman, a stranger, had just reached the Towers before I left it." "To come in search of me?" "Exactly. It has taken me nearly an hour to find you. I hurried, first of all, to the Cot, but you were not there. Margery Trant had not heard you leave the house, and was unable to tell me in which direction you had gone. I set out to look for you, and it must have been instinct which directed my steps to this place." He paused. A throstle in the wood piped a few notes and then ceased. "Go on," said Drelincourt, without looking up. "You have something more to tell me." "As I bent over Mrs. Drelincourt's dead body, I found this close by her pillow." As he finished speaking, he drew from one of his pockets a white handkerchief bordered with a thin line of black, and having shaken it out, held it up to the light. On it were three or four crimson stains. "It is yours. Here are your initials in one corner," he said. He had a softly modulated voice, but just now there was no more emotion either in it or his manner than if he had been discussing the state of the weather. Drelincourt started to his feet, his face blanched to the lips. A moment or two he stared at the handkerchief as though it had for him a horrible fascination. Then the eyes of the two men met in a silence which seemed charged with hidden meaning. "A dumb witness, but enough to hang a man," said Drelincourt at length, as he turned away with a shudder.