sted.

"Good notion!" I replied. "But there's just one thing against it. If
the murderer had known that, if he felt that, he'd have secured the
box when he searched Quick's clothing, as he undoubtedly did."

"Of course!" she admitted. "I ought to have thought of that. But there
are such a lot of things to think of in connection with this
case--threads interwoven with each other."

"You've been thinking much about it?" I asked.

She made no reply for a moment, and I waited, wondering.

"I don't think it's a very comfortable thing to know that one's had a
particularly brutal murder at one's very door and that, for all one
knows, the murderer may still be close at hand," she said at last.
"There's such a disagreeable feeling of uneasiness about this affair.
I know that Uncle Francis is most awfully upset by it."

I looked at her in some surprise. I had not seen any marked signs of
concern in Mr. Raven.

"I hadn't observed that," I said.

"Perhaps not," she answered. "But I know him better. He's an unusually
nervous man. Do you know that since this happened he's taken to going
round the house every night, examining doors and windows?--And--he's
begun to carry a revolver."

The last statement made me think. Why should Mr. Raven expect--or, if
not expect, be afraid of, any attack on himself? But before I could
make any comment on my companion's information, my attention to the
subject was diverted. All that afternoon the weather had been
threatening to break--there was thunder about. And now, with startling
suddenness, a flash of lightning was followed by a sharp crack, and
that on the instant by a heavy downpour of rain. I glanced at Miss
Raven's light dress--early spring though it was, the weather had been
warm for more than a week, and she had come out in things that would
be soaked through in a moment. But just then we were close to an old
red-brick house, which stood but a yard or two back from the road, and
was divided from it by nothing but a strip of garden. It had a deep
doorway, and without ceremony, I pushed open the little gate in front,
and drew Miss Raven within its shelter. We had not stood there many
seconds, our back to the door (which I never heard opened), when a
soft mellifluous voice sounded close to my startled ear.

"Will you not step inside and shelter from the storm?"

Twisting round sharply, I found myself staring at the slit-like eyes
and old parchment-hued face of a smiling Chinaman.