ack since."

Queensmead's dark eyes lingered thoughtfully on the detective's face, as
though seeking to gather the meaning underlying his words.

"Why should he do such a foolish thing, sir?" he asked.

"It is not always easy to account for a man's actions."

"It is hard to account for a man wanted by the police running his head
into a noose."

"Ronald may not know he is wanted by the police."

"Why, of course he must know. If he doesn't----" Queensmead broke off
suddenly and looked at the detective queerly, as if suddenly realising
all that the remark implied. "You must have some strange ideas about
this case," he added slowly.

"I have, but we won't go into them now," said the detective, with a
slight smile. He appreciated the fact that the other was, to use an
American colloquialism, "quick on the uptake." "Your immediate duty is
clear."

"You mean I should search the wood again?" said Queensmead, with the
same quick comprehension as before. "Very well. Will you come with me?"

Colwyn nodded, and Queensmead, without more ado, took a revolver and a
pair of handcuffs from a cupboard, slipped them into his pockets, and
announced that he was ready. He opened the door for his visitor to
precede him, and they set forth.

The hut circles on the rise looked more desolate than ever in the waning
afternoon light. The excavations commenced by Mr. Glenthorpe had been
abandoned, and a spade left sticking in the upturned earth had rusted in
the damp air. The track of the footprints to the pit in which the body
had been flung still showed distinctly in the clay, and the splash of
blood gleamed dully on the edge of the hole. On the other side of the
pit the trees of the wood stood in stunted outline against a lowering
black sky.

The two men entered the wood silently. The trees were of great age, the
trunks thick and gnarled, with low twisted boughs, running and
interlacing in every direction. So thickly were they intertwined that it
was twilight in the sombre depths of the wood, although the fierce winds
from the North Sea had already stripped the upper branches of leaves.
The ground was covered with a rank and rotting undergrowth, from which
tiny spirals of vapour, like gnomes' fires, floated upwards. The silence
was absolute; even the birds of the coast seemed to shun the place,
which looked as if it had been untrodden since the days when the beast
men of the Stone Age prowled through its dim recesses to the hut circ