he had used
with Howells.

"You know the court seems full of unfriendly things--what the ignorant
would call ghosts. I'm Spanish and I know." After a moment he added: "The
woods, too. I shouldn't care to wander through them too much after dark."

Robinson stared, but Rawlins brushed the question aside.

"What hotel did you go to in Smithtown?"

"It's called the 'New.' Nothing could be farther from the fact."

"Shall I see if that's straight, sir?"

The district attorney agreed, and Rawlins left the room. Paredes laughed.

"How interesting! I'm under suspicion. It would be something, wouldn't
it, to commit crimes with the devilish ingenuity of these? No, no, Mr.
District Attorney, look to the ghosts. They alone are sufficiently
clever. But I might say, since you take this attitude, that I don't care
to answer any more questions until you discover something that might give
you the right to ask them."

He lay back on the divan, languidly lighting another cigarette. Graham
beckoned Robinson. Bobby followed them out, suspecting Graham's purpose,
unwilling that action should be taken too hastily against the Panamanian;
for even now guilty knowledge seemed incompatible with Paredes's polished
reserve. When he joined the others, indeed, Graham with an aggressive air
was demanding the district attorney's intentions.

"If he could elude you so easily last night, it's common sense to put him
where you can find him in case of need. He's given you excuse enough."

"The man's got me guessing," Robinson mused, "but there are other
elements."

"What's happened since we left?" Graham asked quickly. "Have you got any
trace of Howells's evidence?"

Robinson smiled enigmatically, but his failure was apparent.

"I'm like Howells," he said. "I'd risk nearly anything myself to learn
how the room was entered, how the crimes were committed, how those poor
devils were made to alter their positions."

"So," Bobby said, "you had my rooms in New York searched. You had me
followed to-day. It's ridiculous."

Robinson ignored him. He stepped to the front door, opened it, and looked
around the court.

"What did the sphinx mean about ghosts in the court?"

They walked out, gazing helplessly at the trampled grass about the
fountain, at the melancholy walls, at the partly opened window of the
room of mystery.

"He knows something," Robinson mused. "Maybe you're right, Mr. Graham,
but I wonder if I oughtn't to go farther and take you