said Furneaux. "My friend here," turning to the policeman
who had voiced his amazement at the suggestion that Hilton Fenley was
a murderer, "was in the position of Bret Harte's negro lecturer on
geology, while this other stalwart thought he had been kicked by a
horse. We soon recovered, but had to grope for each other. Then I
called the heavens to witness that I was dished."

"That gave us a chance of salvage, anyhow," said Winter. "I 'phoned
the Roxton Inspector, and he will block the roads. When he has
communicated with St. Albans and some other centers we should have a
fairly wide net spread. Bates is coming from the lodge to take charge
of a search party to scour the woods. We want that rifle. He must have
dropped it somewhere. He'll make for a station in the early morning.
He daren't tramp the country without a hat and in a black suit."

Winter was trying to put heart into his colleague, but Furneaux was
not to be comforted. The truth was that the blow on the head had been
a very severe one. Unfortunately, he had changed his hard straw hat
for a soft cap which gave hardly any protection. Had Fenley's perch
been a few inches lower when he delivered that vindictive thrust,
Scotland Yard would probably have lost one of its most zealous
officers.

So the Jerseyman said nothing, having nothing to say that was fit for
the ears of the local constabulary, and Winter suggested that they
should return to the mansion and give Bates instructions. Then he,
Winter, would telephone Headquarters, have the main roads watched, and
the early Continental trains kept under surveillance.

Furneaux, torch in hand, at once led the way. Thus the party was
visible before it entered the avenue, and two young people who had
bridged months of ordinary acquaintance in one moment of tragedy,
being then on the roadway, saw the gleam of light and waited.

"Good!" cackled the little detective when his glance fell on them.
"I'm glad to see there's one live man in the bunch. I presume you've
disposed of Mr. Robert Fenley, Mr. Trenholme?"

"Yes," said the artist. "His affairs seem to be common property. His
brother evidently knew he was out of doors, and now you----"

Furneaux woke up at that.

"His brother! How can _you_ know what his brother knew?"

"Mr. Hilton Fenley saw Miss Manning and myself, and mistook me
for----"

"Saw you? When?"

"About five minutes ago, on the other side of the wood."

"What did he say? Quick!"

"He told