on Varr, who
had not proved a kind husband, is presently murdered. I had already
noted your agitation at the inquest, and without entertaining definite
views, I still thought it advisable to learn what I could about you."

"Quite naturally," admitted Sherwood with a certain urbanity, though
his color deepened. "I can see now that you had some reason to regard
me askance. However, the fact that you are already so well posted in
my affairs has its consoling virtues--it makes it easier for me to tell
you more." He hesitated, looked toward Miss Ocky as if for
encouragement, received it in a short nod and added slowly, "I may as
well begin with a circumstance that would probably have crystallized
your suspicions of me if you had learned it for yourself."

"What was that?" asked the detective a bit impatiently.

"I was present at the murder," said Sherwood.

_XX: H. Antaeus Krech_

Miss Ocky, who had heard the story already, sat down on the rock and
calmly waited its continuance, but Creighton's eyes narrowed.

"You were present! At the murder!"

"In the background only, I assure you," amended Sherwood, and plunged
rather desperately into his account. "It is a habit of mine to grab my
hat and stick and take a short walk every evening before going to bed,
and that was how I came to be out that night. I had no special
objective, and--and because old memories had been stirred by my return
I almost unconsciously cut across the fields near my house and headed
for that path which leads to this garden. I used to do that twenty-two
years ago when--when there used to be some one to meet me right by this
rock! Somehow, I felt as if I wanted to--to look at a certain lighted
window before I turned in. I don't expect you to understand--"

"I do, however! What time was all this?"

"Half-past ten, roughly. When I got here, the only light burning was
in Simon's study--otherwise the house was in darkness, which seemed to
me an ironic commentary on my foolish gesture! The study light went
out almost immediately, but I lingered on. I sat down on a fallen log
in the deep shadow of those trees--there, to the right of the path--and
began to think back to old times. One discovery I made was that I
hated Simon Varr more than ever after all these years. Damaging
confession, I suppose?

"Twenty or thirty minutes must have passed. Then I heard a cautious
step on the trail--and nearly fell off my log when a figure in th