pped out into the hall. Sallie was in the kitchen,
for I heard her voice questioning the men as they passed through. Out
of the window I caught a glimpse of them both disappearing through the
weeds toward the bayou. As to myself I was more at sea than ever. The
sudden disappearance of the body had left me bewildered, yet more
strongly convinced than before that this was no ordinary affair.
Evidences of a plan, of cooperation, rendered the situation serious.
That dead body had not moved itself; human hands had accomplished the
deed during the brief period of my absence outside. Whose hands could
have done it? Not those of Coombs, surely, for he could not have
passed me and attained the house while I was in the garden unseen. Nor
Sally, for she possessed no strength to more than drag the dead man to
some near-by covert. With the possibility of this in mind I searched
the vacant rooms of that floor, closets and all, thoroughly, but to no
result. There was, therefore, but one conclusion possible--unknown
parties were involved. We were not alone in the house in spite of its
apparent desertion.

I paused in doubt before Mrs. Bernard's door, convinced this was the
truth. Should I tell her frankly the story of the night, my vague
discoveries, my suspicion? I surely had no right to deceive the woman,
or keep her with me. I had determined myself to face it out, to risk
life if need be, to learn the truth. But I had no right to further
involve her. She had accompanied me thus far innocently enough,
accepting my explanation, driven to acquiescing by the desperate
situation in which she found herself. Already she regretted her hasty
action. To involve her still deeper would be heartless. I could not
do it, at least not without full confession.

I rapped at the door twice before there was any movement within. Then
her voice asked who was there, and at my answer she came out fully
dressed, fronting me with questioning eyes.

"The night has rested you," I said smilingly, my heart beating in swift
appreciation of her beauty. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

"For anything to escape the loneliness of that room," she replied
seriously. "If I really look rested, it is not from sleep for I have
passed the night in terror." She held out her hands as though seeking
to assure herself of my real presence. "Tell me what is wrong with
this house? What occurred last night?"

"I am not altogether sure myself," I said, str