vements had aroused Katherine, and they had
found, once more behind locked doors, the determined and malicious
detective, murdered precisely as old Blackburn had been.

Of course Graham was logical. By every rational argument the murderer
must still be in the room. Yet Bobby foresaw that, as always, no one
would be found, that nothing would be unearthed to explain the succession
of tragic mysteries. While Graham commenced his search, indeed, he
continued to stare at the little round hole in Howells's head, at the
fresh, irregular stain on the pillow, and he became absorbed in his own
predicament. Again and again he asked himself if he could be responsible
for these murders which had been committed with an inhuman ingenuity. He
knew only that he had wandered, unconscious, in the vicinity of the
Cedars last night; that he had been asleep when his grandfather's body
had altered its position; that he had gone to sleep a little while ago
too profoundly, brooding over Howells's challenge to the murderer to
invade the room of death and kill him if he could. Howells had been
confident that he could handle a man and so solve the riddle of how the
room had been entered. Certainly Howells's challenge had been accepted,
and Bobby knew that he had fallen into that deep sleep hating the
detective, telling himself that the man's death might save him from
arrest, from conviction, from an intolerable walk to a little room with a
single chair.

"Recurrent aphasia." The doctor's expression came back to him. In such a
state a man could overcome locked doors, could accomplish apparent
miracles and retain no recollection. And Bobby had hated and feared
Howells more than he had his grandfather.

Dully he saw Katherine go out at Graham's direction. As one in a dream he
moved toward the door they had had to break down on entering.

"Stand close to it," Graham said. "We'll cover everything."

"You'll find no one," Bobby answered with a perfect assurance.

He saw Graham take the candle and explore the large closets. He watched
him examine the spaces behind the window curtains. He could smile a
little as Graham stooped, peering beneath the bed, as he moved each piece
of furniture large enough to secrete a man.

"You see, Hartley, it's no use."

Graham's lack of success, however, stimulated his anger.

"Then," he said, "there must be some hiding place in the walls. Such
devices are common in houses as old as this."

Bobby indicated the s