f dropping down upon him, informally, ever since the
trouble over Dacre Wynne's disappearance, took hold of Nigel. But he
shook it off. He had given his word. And if he could not tell 'Toinette,
then no other soul in the universe should know. So he simply tossed his
shoulders, and, going back to the window, looked out of it, to hide the
something of triumph which had stolen into his face.

Truth to tell, he was obsessed with a feeling that something _was_
going to happen, and happen soon. The premonition, to one who was not
used to such things, carried all the more conviction. With Cleek on the
track--anything might happen. Cleek was a man for whom things never stood
still, and his amazing brain was concentrated upon this problem as it
had been concentrated--successfully--upon others. Merriton had a feeling
that it was only a matter of time.

Then, just as he was standing there, humming something softly beneath his
breath, the cavalcade, headed by Cleek and Mr. Narkom, rather grim and
silent, reached the gateway. Behind them--Merriton gave a sudden cry
which brought the doctor to his side--behind them three men were carrying
something--something bulky and large and wrapped in a black oilskin
tarpaulin. And one of the men was Headland's servant, Dollops! He
recognized that, even as his inner consciousness told him that his
"something" was about to happen now.

"Gad! they've found the body," he exclaimed, in a hoarse, excited voice,
fairly running to the front door and throwing it open with a crash that
rang through the old house from floor to rafters, and brought Borkins
scuttling up the kitchen stairs at a pace that was ill-befitting his age
and dignity. Merriton gave him a curt order.

"Have the morning-room door thrown open and the sofa pulled out from
against the wall. My friends have been for a walk across the Fens, and
have found something. You can see them coming up the drive. What d'you
make of it?"

"Gawd! a haccident, Sir Nigel," said Borkins, in a shaky voice. "'Adn't I
better tell Mrs. Mummery to put the blue bedroom in order and 'ave plenty
of 'ot water?..."

"No." Merriton was running down the front steps and flung the answer back
over his shoulder. "Can't you use your eyes? It's a body, you fool--a
body!"

Borkins gasped a moment, and then stood still, his thin lips sucked in,
his face unpleasant to see. He was alone in the hallway, for Doctor
Bartholomew's fat figure was waddling in Merriton's wak