with gusto. Doris, who knew the village
constable well, laughed outright, while Furneaux cackled shrilly. None
who might be watching the little group in that delightful garden, with
its scent of old-world flowers and drone of bees, could have guessed that
a grewsome tragedy formed their major theme.

The girl was the first to realize that even harmless merriment was in ill
accord with the presence of death, for the body of Adelaide Melhuish lay
within forty yards of the place where they stood.

"May I leave you now?" she inquired. "Father may be wanting help in
the office."

"I shan't detain you more than a few seconds," said Furneaux briskly. "On
Monday evening you two young people parted at half past ten. How do you
fix the time?"

Doris answered without hesitation:

"The large window of Mr. Grant's study was open, and we both heard a
clock in the hall chime the half-hour. I said, 'Goodness me, is that half
past ten?' and started for home at once. Mr. Grant came with me as far as
the bridge. When I reached my room, in exactly five minutes after leaving
The Hollies, I stood at the open window--that window"--and she pointed to
a dormer casement above the sitting-room--"and looked out. It was a
particularly fine night, mild, but not very clear, as a slight mist often
rises from the river after a hot day in summer. I may have been there
about ten minutes, no longer, when I saw the study window of The Hollies
thrown open, and Mr. Grant's figure was silhouetted by the lamp behind
him. He seemed to be listening for something, so I, who must have heard
any unusual sound, listened too. There was nothing. I could hear the
ripple of the river beneath the bridge, so everything was very still.
After a minute, or two, perhaps--no longer--Mr. Grant went in, and closed
the window. Then I went to bed."

"Did Mr. Grant draw any blind or curtains?"

"There are muslin curtains attached to each side of the window. One
cannot see into the room from a distance."

Furneaux measured an imaginary line drawn from Doris's bedroom to the
edge of the cliff, and prolonged it.

"Nor can you see the river or foot of the lawn from your room," he
commented.

"No. In winter I can just make out the edge of the lawn. When the trees
are in leaf, all the lower part is hidden."

"You had actually retired to rest about eleven, I suppose?"

"Yes."

"So if Mr. Grant came out again you would not know?" Doris blushed
furiously, but her reply was