"To-night. Our work is not finished. Darnley must not lie there. We shall have to carry him as far as the drive. It is a bit risky, but the thing must be done. Everybody has gone to bed now. Dashwood and old Slight can testify that neither of us have been out of the house since dinner time, so we are quite safe." "Let him lie where he is," Speed whispered, with chattering teeth. "People will think that he came back for something after we had gone to bed, and that he had encounter with some prowling burglar. That's just as good as your plan." "No, it isn't," Mayfield said impatiently. "Mine is much more artistic and reasonable. We have saved our own necks; now we want to put suspicion upon somebody outside. We've got to carry the body of Ralph Darnley as far as the avenue; we've got to turn out his pockets as if he had been robbed. We can bury what he has on him and destroy the loaded stick at the same time. Everybody has gone to bed. Come along." Speed protested and groaned. But it was all the same to Mayfield. He contemptuously indicated the brandy bottle, and suggested that Speed should derive a little fleeting courage from it. Another strong dose and Speed declared himself to be ready. They crept down into the hall and from thence into the darkened dining-room. In the hall Speed hastily snatched a big Inverness cape from the stand. His intention was obvious. He wanted to throw this over the body. . . . It lay there quite still under the shelter of the verandah; outside the rain was gently pattering on the grass. With half averted head, Speed flung the cloak over the still black form. He was heedless of the rain; both were heedless of the rain by this time. It was not a tiring work, for the night was warm, and Mayfield had caught a little of Speed's nervous excitement. He did not notice that it was raining at all. They staggered on for some five hundred yards along the avenue. Speed declared that he could not go any farther. "This will do," he panted in a hoarse whisper. "Under the oak tree. It's just the very spot where a man would stop to light a cigar. You do the rest, Mayfield." Mayfield did the rest cautiously enough. It was the dark before dawn; the birds were not yet awake. A rabbit dashed across the road, and Speed started. Mayfield was only at work a moment; it seemed like ages to Speed. They stole quietly back to the house without meeting anybody; they gained the dining room at length. It was just as they had left it, nothing to show that anybody had been there. Then they were back once more in Speed's bedroom. "I must have some more brandy," he said. "I believe I could drink the bottle. You are not looking quite so cool and self-possessed as usual, Mayfield. Take a drop." "I hate the stuff," Mayfield growled. "All the same, I don't mind confessing that I am just a little bit shaky. I could do it with some whisky. I suppose I could find a decanter of it on the sideboard?"