the doctor, Bobby could see, had been made as
uneasy as himself by the change in the Panamanian. The doctor cleared his
throat. His voice broke the silence tentatively:

"If this house makes you so unhappy, young man, why do you stay?"

Paredes paused in his walk. His thin lips twitched. He indicated Bobby.

"For the sake of my very good friend. What are a man's personal fears and
desires if he can help his friends?"

Graham's distaste was evident. Paredes recognized it with a smile. Bobby
watched him curiously, realizing more and more that Graham was right to
this extent: they must somehow learn the real purpose of the
Panamanian's continued presence here.

Paredes resumed his walk. He still had that air of expectancy. He seemed
to listen. This feeling of imminence reached Bobby; increased his
restlessness. He thought he heard an automobile horn outside. He sprang
up, went to the door, opened it, and stood gazing through the damp and
narrow court. Yet, he confessed, he listened for a repetition of that
unearthly crying through the thicket rather than for the approach of
those who would try to condemn him for two murders. Paredes was right.
The place was unhealthy. Its dark walls seemed to draw closer. They had a
desolate and unfriendly secretiveness. They might hide anything.

The whirring of a motor reached him. Headlights flung gigantic,
distorted shadows of trees across the walls of the old wing. Bobby faced
the others.

"They're coming," he said, and his voice was sufficiently
apprehensive now.

Graham joined him at the door. "Yes," he said. "There will be another
inquisition. You all know that Howells for some absurd reason suspected
Bobby. Bobby, it goes without saying, knows no more about the crimes than
any of us. I dare say you'll keep that in mind if they try to confuse
you. After all, there's very little any of us can tell them."

"Except," Paredes said with a yawn, "what went on upstairs when the woman
cried and Howells's body moved. Of course I know nothing about that."

Graham glanced at him sharply.

"I don't know what you mean, but you have told us all that you are
Bobby's friend."

"Quite so. And I am not a spy."

He moved his head in his grave and dignified bow.

The automobile stopped at the entrance to the court. Three men stepped
out and hurried up the path. As they entered the hall Bobby recognized
the sallow, wizened features of the coroner. One of the others was short
and thick