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That it was a crime he was certain, for there was no reasonable idea to suppose that Maurice had committed suicide. He had left for Deanminster hardly three hours before, full of health and spirits; and now he was dead. A dead body, a lonely road--all the evidence of an atrocious assassination having been committed, and not one trace of the assassin. Undoubtedly the twice-uttered cry had come from Maurice, and as Jen had raced out of the house after the first time he heard it, he must have reached his boy almost immediately after he died; before, so to speak, the body had time to grow cold. Yet the strange part of the affair was that the body was cold, and that there did not seem to be any wound whereby the murder could have been achieved.,

It must be conceded that for an amateur, the major set about his unaccustomed task in a very methodical manner. He offered a reward of five hundred pounds for the detection of the murderer, and a further sum of the like amount to anyone who should discover the thief who had desecrated the chamber of death. These munificent rewards set everybody on the alert, and Jen, without putting down actual money, thus became possessed of some hundreds of spies who would bring him any information likely to assist him in his investigation. Also, the major examined all the servants in the house. He questioned Sampson, the young policeman who had been in the kitchen on the night when the body had been stolen, and finally he paid a visit to the police office at Deanminster, where he saw Mr. Inspector Arkel.,

"I can arrest you on suspicion," said Arkel, rising with his warrant, "and I arrest you now in the Queen's name.",

When she returned to her post after a brief nap on the wide couch, everything was quiet, much to her disgust.

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"Where is it?",

On his part, Major Jen, together with Arkel, built up a strong case against the man whom they fully believed to be the culprit. Search had been made in Etwald's house, but no traces of the dead body could be found. Its disappearance was almost as profound a mystery as the reason which had induced Etwald to steal it. The reasons for the theft of the devil-stick, for the murder of Maurice, were plain enough; but what had induced the doctor to make away with the corpse no one could discover. Etwald himself, even to his counsel, was silent on the subject.,

Patricia, however, was unconvinced.,

Mr. Henderson has been dead forty-two years. He only lived three months after he married Aunt Adeline, and her crêpe veil is over a yard long yet. Men are the dust under her feet, but she likes Dr. John to come over and sit with us, because she can consult with him about what Mr. Henderson really died of, and talk with him about the sad state of poor Mr. Carter's liver for a year before he died. I just go on rocking Billy and singing hymns to him in such a way that I can't hear the conversation. Mr. Carter's liver got on my nerves alive, and dead it does worse. But it hurts when the doctor has to take the little sleep-boy out of my arms to carry him home; though I like it when he says under his breath, "Thank you, Molly."