heard her nightly shrieks since the murder was
committed."

"It is difficult to believe that they are all mistaken," said Mr.
Cromering slowly.

"I do not think they are mistaken--at least, not all of them. Some have
probably heard shrieks."

"Then how do you account for the shrieks?" asked the chief constable
eagerly.

"I think they have heard Benson's mother shrieking in her paroxysms of
madness."

"By Jove, that's a shrewd notion!" chuckled Superintendent Galloway.
"You don't miss much, Mr. Colwyn. Whether you're right or not, there's
not the slightest doubt that the whole village is in terror of the
ghost, and avoids the Shrieking Pit like a pestilence. I was talking to
a Flegne farmer the other day, and he assured me, with a pale face, that
he had heard the White Lady shrieking three nights running, and when his
men went to the inn after dark they walked half a mile out of their way
to avoid passing near the pit. He told me also that the general belief
among the villagers is that Mr. Glenthorpe saw the White Lady a night or
so before he was murdered."

"I heard that story also," responded Colwyn. "He was in the habit of
walking up to the rise after dark. He appears to have been keenly
interested in his scientific work."

"He was absorbed in it to the exclusion of everything else," said the
chief constable, with a sigh. "His death is a great loss to British
science, and Norfolk research in particular. I was very much interested
in that newspaper clipping which was found in his pocket-book with the
money. It was a London review on a brochure he had published on sponge
spicules he had found in a flint at Flegne, and was his last
contribution to science, published two days before he was struck down.
What a loss!"

Their conversation had brought them to the top of the rise. Beneath them
lay the little hamlet on the edge of the marshes, wrapped in a white
blanket of mist. Colwyn asked his companions to remain where they were,
while he went to see if Queensmead was on the watch. He walked quickly
across the hut circles until he reached the pit. There his keen eyes
detected a dark figure standing motionless in the shadow of the wood.

"Is that you, Queensmead?" he said, in a low voice.

"Yes, Mr. Colwyn." The figure advanced out of the shadow.

"Is everything all right?"

"Quite all right, sir. I've watched from this spot from dark till dawn
since you've been away, and there's not been a soul near the pit.