lavering was addicted to the use of black cosmetic! And the
marks on the dead man's shirt front were---- Heigho! You never know! You
never know! But for the boy's sake and for the sake of Narkom's fondness
for both----

His thoughts dropped off. He had come again to the cell where the
murdered keeper's clothes lay, just where he had flung them down when
the coming of Geoff and Lady Katharine had attracted his attention and
turned his interest in another direction. Now he had time to turn to
them again.

If, by any chance, it really had been Sir Philip Clavering, how came
these clothes buried in the grounds of Wuthering Grange? Of course the
General's "ruin" was famous all over the district; and, naturally, if a
man of Sir Philip Clavering's keen wits were the assassin, he would take
means to get the things hidden away as expeditiously as possible, and as
far away from his own place as circumstances would permit. He wouldn't
know, of course, that circumstances would arise that would point to an
occupant of Wuthering Grange--Lady Katharine--being implicated and any
search of the place result, and he would be quite free from wishing to
lead the trail in that direction. Of course, when he learned that he had
done so--as learn everybody must in a day or two--he would do his best
to get rid of the things, and when that happened---- Ah, well! poor
devil, it would be the end of one rope and the beginning of another.

It was an old, old trick of the assassin's, this burying things and then
harking back to the spot either to remove them or to see if they were
safe; and this assassin, whosoever he might prove to be, would be sure
to follow the universal precedent. When he did----! Cleek bundled the
clothing back into the hole, took up the spade, shovelled back the
earth, and made the spot look as nearly as possible as it had been when
he stumbled upon it.

"A little bit of spy work for Dollops," was his unspoken thought. "He
can spend a few days down here very profitably, and be ready to give the
signal when the man comes."

He put the spade back in the place where he had found it, and, facing
about, went up the stone steps, and after replacing the movable slab,
made his way out of the ruin; for it was now time to be about the task
of dressing for dinner and what promised to be an eventful evening.

Should he take Miss Lorne into his confidence or not? Yes, he fancied
that he would. For one thing, she knew Lady Clavering and