No. He'd have told
us. He'd guess it would crop up in talk some time or other. Yes, the
motorist is waving to him. There! You can see his face. It _is_
Robert, isn't it?"

"O sapient one!" snapped Furneaux.

The meeting between the brothers was orthodox in its tragic
friendliness. The onlookers could supply the words they were unable to
hear. Robert Fenley, bigger, heavier, altogether more British in build
and semblance than Hilton, was evidently asking breathlessly if the
news he had read in London was true, and Hilton was volubly explaining
what had happened, pointing to the wood, the doorway, the hearse,
emphasizing with many gestures the painful story he had to tell.

Then the two young men mounted the steps, the inference being that
Robert Fenley wished to see his father's body before it was removed. A
pallor was spreading beneath the glow on the younger Fenley's
perspiring face. He was obviously shocked beyond measure. Grief and
horror had imparted a certain strength to somewhat sullen features. He
might be a ne'er-do-well, a loose liver, a good deal of a fool,
perhaps, but he was learning one of life's sharpest lessons; in time,
it might bring out what was best in his character. The detectives
understood now why the butler, who knew the boy even better than his
own father, deemed it impossible that he should be a parricide. Some
men are constitutionally incapable of committing certain crimes. At
least, the public thinks so; Scotland Yard knows better, and studies
criminology with an open mind.

The brothers had hardly crossed the threshold of the house when an
eldritch scream rang through the lofty hall. The detectives hastened
from the dining-room, and forthwith witnessed a tableau which would
have received the envious approval of a skilled producer of melodrama.
The hall measured some thirty-five feet square, and was nearly as
lofty, its ceiling forming the second floor. The staircase was on the
right, starting from curved steps in the inner right angle and making
a complete turn from a half landing to reach a gallery which ran
around three sides of the first floor. The fourth contained the
doorway, with a window on each hand and four windows above.

The stairs and the well of the hall were of oak, polished as to
parquet and steps, but left to age and color naturally as to wainscot,
balusters and rails. The walls of the upper floor were decorated in
shades of dull gold and amber. The general effect was su