ny felt quite sure, from what Cayley had said and had hesitated to
say, that Mark had been the last to see his brother alive. It didn't
follow that Mark Ablett was a murderer. Revolvers go off accidentally;
and when they have gone off, people lose their heads and run away,
fearing that their story will not be believed. Nevertheless, when people
run away, whether innocently or guiltily, one can't help wondering which
way they went.

"I suppose this way," said Antony aloud, looking out of the window.

"Who?" said Cayley stubbornly.

"Well, whoever it was," said Antony, smiling to himself. "The murderer.
Or, let us say, the man who locked the door after Robert Ablett was
killed."

"I wonder."

"Well, how else could he have got away? He didn't go by the windows in
the next room, because they were shut."

"Isn't that rather odd?"

"Well, I thought so at first, but--" He pointed to the wall jutting out
on the right. "You see, you're protected from the rest of the house if
you get out here, and you're quite close to the shrubbery. If you go out
at the French windows, I imagine you're much more visible. All that part
of the house--" he waved his right hand--"the west, well, north-west
almost, where the kitchen parts are--you see, you're hidden from them
here. Oh, yes! he knew the house, whoever it was, and he was quite right
to come out of this window. He'd be into the shrubbery at once."

Cayley looked at him thoughtfully.

"It seems to me, Mr. Gillingham, that you know the house pretty well,
considering that this is the first time you've been to it."

Antony laughed.

"Oh, well, I notice things, you know. I was born noticing. But I'm
right, aren't I, about why he went out this way?"

"Yes, I think you are." Cayley looked away--towards the shrubbery. "Do
you want to go noticing in there now?" He nodded at it.

"I think we might leave that to the police," said Antony gently.
"It's--well, there's no hurry."

Cayley gave a little sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for the
answer, and could now breathe again.

"Thank you, Mr. Gillingham," he said.

CHAPTER IV. The Brother from Australia

Guests at the Red House were allowed to do what they liked within
reason--the reasonableness or otherwise of it being decided by Mark. But
when once they (or Mark) had made up their minds as to what they wanted
to do, the plan had to be kept. Mrs. Calladine, who knew this little
weakness of their host's, resis