The disorder of his clothing suggested the haste with which he had left
his bed and come downstairs. His wrinkled, sunken face had aged
perceptibly. He advanced with an expression of obvious relief.

"I was just coming to find you, Mr. Robert."

"What's up?" Bobby asked. "A little while ago I thought you were all
asleep back here."

"One of the women awakened him," Graham said. "It's just as I thought."

"Was that it?" the old butler asked with a quick relief. But immediately
he shook his head. "It couldn't have been that, Mr. Graham, for I stopped
at Ella's and Jane's doors, and there was no sound. They seemed to be
asleep. And it wasn't like that."

"You mean," Bobby said, "that you heard a woman crying?"

Jenkins nodded. "It woke me up."

"If you didn't think it was one of the maids," Graham asked, "what did
you make of it?"

"I thought it came from outside. I thought it was a woman prowling around
the house. Then I said to myself, why should a woman prowl around the
Cedars? And it was too unearthly, sir, and I remembered the way Mr. Silas
was murdered, and the awful thing that happened to his body this
afternoon, and I--you won't think me foolish, sirs?--I doubted if it was
a human voice I had heard."

"No," Graham said dryly, "we won't think you foolish."

"So I thought I'd better wake you up and tell you."

Graham turned to Bobby.

"Katherine and you and I," he said, "fancied the crying was in the room
with us. Jenkins is sure it came from outside the house. That is
significant."

"Wherever it came from," Bobby said softly, "it was like some one
mourning for Howells."

Jenkins started.

"The policeman!"

Bobby remembered that Jenkins hadn't been aroused by the discovery of
Howells's murder.

"You'd know in a few minutes anyway," he said. "Howells has been killed
as my grandfather was."

Jenkins moved back, a look of unbelief and awe in his wrinkled face.

"He boasted he was going to sleep in that room," he whispered.

Bobby studied Jenkins, not knowing what to make of the old man, for into
the awe of the wrinkled face had stolen a positive relief, an emotion
that bordered on the triumphant.

"It's terrible," Jenkins whispered.

Graham grasped his shoulder.

"What's the matter with you, Jenkins? One would say you were glad."

"No. Oh, no, sir. It is terrible. I was only wondering about the
policeman's report."

"What do you know about his report?" Bobby cried.

"Only that--that he