hen make an excuse of
having to examine the body in reference to some new evidence that's just
cropped up. I'll join you there in one minute."

Mr. Narkom gave a nod of comprehension and vanished up the path, leaving
his great ally to carry out his plans in his own inimitable fashion.

That was the last the superintendent saw of him until full twenty
minutes later when, with his customary soundlessness, he came up out of
the gloom of the neglected garden, entered the rear door of the cottage,
and joined him in the room where the body of the dead man still hung,
spiked to the wall, with knees bent, head lolling, and the lantern in
Narkom's hand splashing a grotesque shadow of him on the side of the
chimney breast.

Cleek walked over to that ghastly human crucifix and regarded the dead
man bitterly, his lips puckered, and his whole expression one of
unspeakable contempt.

"So it has come to this at last, has it, De Morcerf?" he said, half
audibly. "Well, was it worth the price, do you think? Peace to you, or,
at least, such peace as you deserve. You've paid your scot and passed
out eternally. As for the rest---- Mr. Narkom!"

"Yes, old chap?"

"I noticed last night, when I was down on my knees following the trail
of the _Huile Violette_, that there was a section of the flooring which
has evidently been raised lately, as it was fastened down with new
nails. Locate the place for me--it's over their somewhere--and stand
there while I do a little measuring and counting."

Narkom moved over in the direction indicated, searched about for a time
with a magnifying glass, and finally announced the discovery of the
place he had been set to look for.

"Good heavens above, old chap, how you notice things! Fancy your
remarking that when you were looking for something totally different! I
say what on earth are you doing?"

"Measuring," replied Cleek, stepping off the distance between the spot
where the body hung and that where Narkom knelt. "Three feet, one yard;
three yards---- No, that won't do. 'Nine feet from the body' doesn't
work out, so it's not that. Nine paces are impossible--room's too
short--and nine boards---- Hum-m-m! That's poorer than the rest--doesn't
go half the way. Clearly then, if my theory is correct, it's _not_ the
body that's the starting point. How about the mantelpiece then? Let's
have a try. Nine feet? No go! Nine boards, then? Oh, piffle! that's
worse than ever. It leads off in a totally different