"An ingenious weapon," commented Roberts. "And Paul's pyjamas' jacket offered no resistance. It would not have required great strength to drive the pick into a vital part of his body--" "There you go again," objected Alan, "insinuating the murder was committed by a woman. Say, you are a great sheriff, you are!" turning in sudden, unlooked-for wrath to the big man lounging near him. "Why don't you do something besides loaf around this place? I believe you were here last night!" "Was I?" Trenholm's calm smile was provoking in its hint of bored amusement. Was the sheriff poking fun at him? The thought was intolerable, and Alan jerked uneasily about and finally rose and strolled over to one of the glass doors leading to the garden. "Well, this appears to be the place a sheriff is needed, Alan. First the cold-blooded murder of a defenseless man," his voice rose slightly--"then a housebreaker last night--" "Deuce take it!" Roberts straightened up and laid down his cigar. "Something must be done, Trenholm; Alan's right. Why not try one of the well-known detective agencies?" "Perhaps I may, shortly," Trenholm rejoined in the same unemotional tones. "I am always open to suggestions. Have you any more, Alan?" Alan's white cheeks turned a more healthy color and leaving the window he came closer to Trenholm; stopped, opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then moved over to the portières. Parting them slightly he gazed into the dining room. It was vacant. "Listen, Guy;" he had regained Trenholm's side and spoke hurriedly, clipping his words together. "What about Corbin? Have you thought of him as a--a--possible suspect?" Trenholm stared up at his agitated questioner for a moment in silence. "Corbin tells an apparently straight tale, Alan," he replied. "He declares that after admitting Miss Ward on Monday evening he and Martha retired to their rooms and slept soundly all night. Their quarters, as you know, are near the roof and at the back of the house. No ordinary sound would carry that distance." "What do you mean by an ordinary sound?" asked Roberts, who was following the rapid dialogue with deep attention. "A door bell, for instance," responded Trenholm, with a quick glance at Alan. Alan looked away for an instant. "How about a sound _out_ of the ordinary?" he demanded. "A cry of terror--of horror--wouldn't that reach them?" Trenholm shook his head dubiously. "Not with their doors closed. And Martha substantiates her husband's statement that they are both heavy sleepers." "Oh, Martha!" Alan tossed down his hat which he had picked up and held aimlessly, twirling it back and forth. "I wouldn't believe her on oath--neither of them, for that matter. Why under heaven Paul kept the Corbins here after his father's death I cannot imagine." "Possibly because he deemed them faithful," replied Trenholm dryly. "You must also recollect that it is difficult to induce servants to live out here in the country all the year round."