d.

"You go too deep for me," he said. "Was it Penreath who got out of the
window?"

"No, Penreath, like Benson, was the victim of a deep and subtle
villain."

"Then who was it?"

Before Colwyn could reply a shriek rang out--a single hoarse and
horrible cry, which went reverberating and echoing over the marshes,
rising to a piercing intensity at its highest note, and then ceasing
suddenly. In the hush that ensued the chief constable looked nervously
at Colwyn.

"It came from the rise," he said in a voice barely raised above a
whisper. "Do you think----"

Colwyn read the unspoken thought in his mind.

"I'll go and see what it was," he said briefly.

He opened the door and went out. In the passage he encountered Ann
shaking and trembling, with a face blanched with terror.

"It came from the pit, sir--the Shrieking Pit," she whispered. "It's the
White Lady. Don't leave me, I'm like to drop. God a' mercy, what's
that?" she cried, finding her voice in a fresh access of terror as a
heavy knock smote the door. "For God's sake, don't 'ee go, sir, don't
'ee go, as you value your life. It's the White Lady at the door, come to
take her toll again from this unhappy house. You be mad to face her,
sir--it's certain death."

But Colwyn loosened himself quickly from her detaining grasp, and strode
to the door. As he passed the bar he caught a glimpse of a ring of
cowering frightened faces within, huddled together like sheep, and
staring with saucer eyes. The mist spanned the doorway like a sheet.

"Who's there?" he cried.

"It's me, sir." Constable Queensmead stepped out of the mist into the
passage, looking white and shaken. "Something's happened up at the pit.
While I was watching from the corner of the wood I saw somebody appear
out of the mist and come creeping up the rise towards the pit. I waited
till he got to the brink, and when he made to climb down, I knew he was
the man you were after, so I went over to the pit. He had disappeared
inside, but I could hear the creepers rustling as he went down. After a
bit, I heard him coming up again, tugging and straining at the creepers,
and gasping for breath. When he was fairly out, I turned my torch on him
and told him to stand still. It is difficult to say exactly how it
happened, sir, but when he saw he was trapped he made a kind of spring
backwards, slipped on the wet clay, lost his balance, and fell back into
the pit. I sprang forward and tried to save him, but it wa