‘“Oh, do let us get away from this dreadful place,” she wailed, “anything might happen to us here. Oh, it’s awful!”

‘Elliot got hold of me by the shoulder.

‘“It can’t be, man,” he murmured. “I tell you it can’t be. A man cannot be killed like that. It is—it’s against Nature.”

‘I tried to soothe him.

‘“There is some explanation,” I said. “Your cousin must have had some unsuspected weakness of the heart. The shock and excitement—”

‘He interrupted me.

‘“You don’t understand,” he said. He held up his hands for me to see and I noticed a red stain on them.

‘“Dick didn’t die of shock, he was stabbed—stabbed to the heart, and there is no weapon.”

‘I stared at him incredulously. At that moment Symonds rose from his examination of the body and came towards us. He was pale and shaking all over.

‘“Are we all mad?” he said. “What is this place—that things like this can happen in it?”

‘“Then it is true,” I said.

‘He nodded.

‘“The wound is such as would be made by a long thin dagger, but—there is no dagger there.”

‘We all looked at each other.

‘“But it must be there,” cried Elliot Haydon. “It must have dropped out. It must be on the ground somewhere. Let us look.”

‘We peered about vainly on the ground. Violet Mannering said suddenly:

‘“Diana had something in her hand. A kind of dagger. I saw it. I saw it glitter when she threatened him.”

‘Elliot Haydon shook his head.

‘“He never even got within three yards of her,” he objected.

‘Lady Mannering was bending over the prostrate girl on the ground.

‘“There is nothing in her hand now,” she announced, “and I can’t see anything on the ground. Are you sure you saw it, Violet? I didn’t.”

‘Dr Symonds came over to the girl.

‘“We must get her to the house,” he said. “Rogers, will you help?”

‘Between us we carried the unconscious girl back to the house. Then we returned and fetched the body of Sir Richard.’

Dr Pender broke off apologetically and looked round.

‘One would know better nowadays,’ he said, ‘owing to the prevalence of detective fiction. Every street boy knows that a body must be left where it is found. But in these days we had not the same knowledge, and accordingly we carried the body of Richard Haydon back to his bedroom in the square granite house and the butler was despatched on a bicycle in search of the police—a ride of some twelve miles.

‘It was then that Elliot Haydon drew me aside.

‘“Look here,” he said. “I am going back to the grove. That weapon has got to be found.”

‘“If there was a weapon,” I said doubtfully.