es said, "why he didn't take
the evidence when he killed Howells."

"Didn't you know you prevented that, sir?" Jenkins asked. "I heard you
come in from the court. I thought you'd been listening. I signalled Mr.
Silas there was danger and to get out of the private stairway before you
could trap him. And I couldn't give him another chance for a long time.
Some of you were in the room after that, or Miss Katherine and Mr. Graham
were sitting in the corridor watching the body until just before Mr.
Robert tried to get the evidence for himself. Mr. Silas had to act then.
It was his last chance, for he thought Mr. Robert would be glad enough to
turn him over to the law."

"Why did you ever hide that stuff in Miss Katherine's room?" Bobby asked.

Jenkins flung up his hands.

"Oh, he was angry, sir, when he knew the truth and learned what a
mistake he'd made. Howells didn't give me that report I showed you. It
was in his pocket with the other things. We got it open without
tearing the envelope and Mr. Silas read it. He wouldn't destroy
anything. He never dreamed of anybody's suspecting Miss Katherine, so
he told me to hide the things in her bureau. I think he figured on
using the evidence to put the blame on Mr. Robert in case it was the
only way to save himself."

"Why did you show the report to me?" Bobby asked.

"I--I was afraid to take all that responsibility," the butler quavered.
"I figured if you were partly to blame it might go easier with me."

Paredes shrugged his shoulders.

"You were a good mate for Silas Blackburn," he sneered.

"Even now I don't see how that old scoundrel had the courage to show
himself to-night," Rawlins said.

"That's the beautiful justice of the whole thing," Paredes answered, "for
there was nothing else whatever for him to do. There never had been
anything else for him to do since Miss Katherine had spoiled his scheme,
since you all believed that it was he who had been murdered. He had to
hide the truth or face the electric chair. If he disappeared he was
infinitely worse off than though he had settled with his brother--a man
without a home, without a name, without a penny."

Jenkins nodded.

"He had to come back," he said slowly, "and he knew how scared you were
of the old room."

"The funeral and the snow," Paredes said, "gave him his chance. Jenkins
will doubtless tell you how they uncovered the grave late this afternoon,
took that poor devil's body, and threw it in the lake,