Tony was watching her.

“Did you happen to know him?” he asked her.

“Know him? Of course not. He’s been gone for years, hasn’t he?” She had recovered somewhat. She picked up her vanity case and examined her face. “What’s this about the pool in the playhouse?” she inquired.

“There’s a chance that he was drowned in it,” said Tony dryly.

Maud got up then. “We’d better go there,” she said. “It can’t be true, but I must see for myself.”

They went out by the west door, and on the way Tony looked inside the table drawer. The key to the playhouse was there as usual, and he looked bewildered.

Jim Conway arrived before they had reached the building. He had two men in the car with him, and he was immediately followed by a car which I learned later was filled with reporters.

They trailed close on his heels, but at the fountain he stopped them. They seemed to argue with him, but one of his men remained behind to watch them while he went on. After that they stayed where they were, obviously irritated. Then, I suppose with the usual acceptance of the inevitable, they lit cigarettes and waited.

I was standing in the doorway of the west wing while this was going on, and I was still there perhaps a quarter of an hour later when Maud came slowly back alone across the lawn, looking pale and worried.

“They’re going to search the pool,” she said. “Jim Conway is looking for something, I don’t know what. He’s got an officer in it now, diving. That’s why I had to leave.” She stood still for a moment, looking haggard in the strong afternoon light. “What on earth do you suppose it is, Pat?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Come in and have a glass of sherry.”

She shook her head. “He’s going to drain the pool too. He wants a piece of wire screening. I suppose Reynolds can find some. Pat, do you think we may have a lunatic around? When you think of Evans, and now this—”

But she did come in and the sherry picked her up. I went upstairs with her, using the elevator—which now worked perfectly—and from a window in her bedroom both of us saw Reynolds carrying what looked like an entire window screen and a heavy pair of shears across the lawn. He did not come back, nor did the group by the fountain move. They smoked and talked, but always they faced toward the playhouse, as wary as good hounds on a scent. It was almost dark when at last Jim Conway and Tony came into view again. The floodlight was on the fountain and I saw Jim stop there. He was carrying what looked like a bath towel rolled around something, and he stopped to speak to the reporters.

I know now what he told them. He said it briefly and went on: “I’m making no positive statement. It is still too soon for that. All I can say, at this moment, is that from certain evidence discovered, I believe Mr. Donald Morgan came to his death in the pool here.”