Short came banging at our doors,
telling us to get up at once, as we were wanted downstairs."

"Well," exclaimed the inspector, "now, I want to ask all of you a very
simple question, and wish to obtain an honest and truthful reply. Was
any door or window left unfastened when you went to bed?"

"No, sir," the cook replied promptly. "I always go round myself, and
see that everything is fastened."

"The front door, for example?"

"I bolted it at Miss Ethelwynn's orders."

"At what time?"

"One o'clock. She told me to wait up till then, and if mistress did
not return I was to lock up and go to bed."

"Then the tragedy must have been enacted about half an hour later?"

"I think so, sir."

"You haven't examined the doors and windows to see if any have been
forced?"

"As far as I can see, they are just as I left them when I went to bed,
sir."

"That's strange--very strange," remarked the inspector, turning to us.
"We must make an examination and satisfy ourselves."

The point was one that was most important in the conduct of the
inquiry. If all doors and windows were still locked, then the assassin
was one of that strange household.

Led by the cook, the officers began a round of the lower premises. One
of the detectives borrowed the constable's bull's-eye and, accompanied
by a second officer, went outside to make an examination of the
window sashes, while we remained inside assisting them in their search
for any marks.

Ethelwynn had been called aside by one of the detectives, and was
answering some questions addressed to her, therefore for an instant I
found myself alone. It was the moment I had been waiting for, to
secretly examine the clue I had obtained.

I was near the door of the morning room, and for a second slipped
inside and switched on the electric light.

Then I took from my vest pocket the tiny little object I had found and
carefully examined it.

My heart stood still. My eyes riveted themselves upon it. The mystery
was solved.

I alone knew the truth!

CHAPTER VII.

THE MAN SHORT AND HIS STORY.

A light footstep sounded behind me, and scarcely had I time to thrust
the little object hastily back into my pocket when my well-beloved
entered in search of me.

"What do the police think, Ralph?" she asked eagerly. "Have they any
clue? Do tell me."

"They have no clue," I answered, in a voice which I fear sounded hard
and somewhat abrupt.

Then I turned from her, as though ful