Hastings' keen scrutiny had in it no intimation of surprise. Waiting for
Webster to continue, he was addressed by the shivering Mr. Sloane:

"Mr. Hast--Mr. Hastings, take charge of--of things. Will you? You know
about these things."

The detective accepted the suggestion.

"Suppose we get at what we know about it--what we all know. Let's go
inside." He turned to the servants: "Stay here until you're called. See
that nothing is disturbed, nothing touched."

He led the way into the house. Sloane, near collapse, clung to one of
Judge Wilton's broad shoulders. It was young Webster who, as the little
procession passed the hatrack in the front hall, caught up a raincoat
and threw it over the half-clad Hastings.

III

THE UNEXPECTED WITNESS

In the library Hastings turned first to Judge Wilton for a description
of the discovery of the body. The judge was in better condition than the
others for connected narrative, Arthur Sloane had sunk into a morris
chair, where he sighed audibly and plied himself by fits and starts with
the aroma from the bottle of smelling salts. Young Webster, still
breathing as if he had been through exhausting physical endeavour, stood
near the table in the centre of the room, mechanically shifting his
weight from foot to foot.

Wilton, seated half-across the room from Hastings, drew, absently, on a
dead cigar-stump. A certain rasping note in his voice was his only
remaining symptom of shock. He had the stern calmness of expression that
is often seen in the broad, irregularly-featured face in early middle
age.

"I can tell you in very few words," he said, addressing the detective
directly. "We all left this room, you'll remember, at eleven o'clock. I
found my bedroom uncomfortable, too warm. Besides, it had stopped
raining. When I noticed that, I decided to go out and smoke my
good-night cigar. This is what's left of it."

He put a finger to the unlighted stump still between his lips.

"What time did you go out?" asked Hastings.

"Probably, a quarter of an hour after I'd gone upstairs--fifteen or
twenty minutes past eleven, I should guess."

"How did you go out--by what door?"

"The front door. I left it unlocked, but not open. At first I paced up
and down, on the south side of the house, under the trees. It was
reasonably light there then--that is to say, the clouds had thinned a
little, and, after my eyes had got accustomed to it, I had no trouble in
avoiding the trees and sh