"What is it, Katherine?" Graham demanded.

"I don't know," she answered. "He startled me. He entered the corridor."

Paredes nodded.

"Quite right. She was there. I was on my way to my room. If your house
had electricity, Bobby, this incident would have been avoided. I saw
something dark in the corridor."

"You may not know," Graham said, "that ever since we found Howells, one
of us has tried, more or less, to keep the entrance of that room under
observation."

"Yet you were all downstairs a little while ago," Paredes yawned. "It's
too bad. I might have taken my turn then. At any rate, since I was
excluded from your confidence, I overcame my natural fear, and, for
Bobby's sake, slipped in, and, I am afraid, startled Miss Katherine."

"Yes," she said.

His explanation was reasonable. There was nothing more to be said, but
Bobby's doubt of his friend, sown by Graham and stimulated by the
incidents of the last hour, was materially strengthened. He felt a
sharp fear of Paredes. Such reserve, such concealment of emotion, was
scarcely human.

"If," Graham was saying, "you really want to help Bobby, there is
something you can do. Will you come downstairs with me for a moment? I'd
like to suggest one or two things before the police arrive."

Without hesitation Paredes followed Graham down the stairs.

Katherine turned immediately to Bobby, her eyes eager, full of the tense
determination that had dictated her plan in the library.

"Now, Bobby!" she whispered. "And there's no time to waste. They may be
here any minute. I won't see you go, but I'll be back at once to guard
you against Paredes if he slips up again."

She walked across the hall and disappeared in the newer corridor. Without
witness he faced the old corridor, and with the attempt directly ahead
his repugnance achieved a new power. The black entrance with its scarcely
dared memories reminded him that what he was about to do was directed
against more than human law, was an outrage against the dead man. He had
to remind himself of the steely purpose with which Howells had marked him
as the murderer; and the man's power persisted after death. In such a
contest he was justified.

He took the candle from the table. Through the stair-well the murmur of
Graham's voice, occasionally interrupted by Groom's heavy tones or the
languid accents of Paredes, drifted encouragingly. Trying to crush his
premonitions, Bobby entered the corridor. Instead of illuminating