Belknap entered his room just before dawn and turned up the light. Nadia stood against the wall inside the door, both hands at her throat, her breath coming in gasps. Her face in the sudden light was as pale as the under side of willow leaves before a storm, or after. Here it seemed that the storm must have passed a moment since.

Belknap sprang to her and seized both her wrists in one vice-like grip.

“Nadia! you haven’t done it?”

“No, no, I haven’t done it, as you call it,” she whispered.

“What have you been doing then?”

“I have been running, my dear detective; don’t you see that?” She tried to laugh.

“Why? What from? I thought nothing could ever frighten you. Once and for all, Nadia Mdevani,” he continued as her eyes fell before his, “I ask you to keep out of this. Can’t you begin to see what I am here for? I am here for game, and you are not fair game. Or perhaps it’s that you are too fair.” His voice wavered. “Anyway, keep clear.”

“I can’t, Mr. Belknap. On my soul, I can’t. There is too much at stake. If I were the only one. But I am not.” She handed him a slip of paper that had been crumpled in her hand.

He took it to the table, and smoothed it under his palm.

“Did you follow instructions?” he asked, in a low voice. “Is that what the running was about?”

“No, no. I didn’t do it, on my word of honor.” Then her eyes suddenly lifted wide open. “There is someone in the hall behind me. Do you hear?” Her body was stiff, her face frozen.

“No,” said Belknap, matching the softness of her voice. “But it seems quite possible. It would be strange if you and I were the only ones abroad in the house tonight, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” she whispered. They stood motionless. “It is going downstairs. Oh my God, it will find it. Do something, Belknap. Quick, destroy that paper, if you love me!”

A long, long scream penetrated the house from corner to corner, like a knife thrust. And then the silence fell again. Nadia drew a deep, shuddering breath, and when she spoke her voice was stronger.

“Perhaps you had better go down, Mr. Belknap. Something seems to be wrong.”

“Something does. You may come with me if you care to.”

They went down and to the door of the library where there was a light. Sydney Crawford stood over a body lying crumpled on the floor. The body was Hartley Blake’s, and was stabbed so well and so often as to have watered the rug thickly with blood.

Sydney, with stricken eyes, met Belknap’s gaze.

“I found this,” she said. “I’m sorry to have screamed, but it was a little unexpected.”

Belknap turned on his heel and rang the service bell. He crossed to the telephone on Whittaker’s desk and lifted the receiver.

“Sit down, Mrs. Crawford. You, too, Miss Mdevani. Don’t look at the body. I shall have the police here in a moment. But perhaps I can help you, Mrs. Crawford, if you have anything to say to me before they arrive. I shall undoubtedly be on the case, since I have had the misfortune to be at Thorngate this week-end—(Police Department? Ordway Belknap speaking. You may or may not know my name. I am up at Judge Whittaker’s place. Yes, Whittaker. There has been a murder committed here during the night. Body just discovered. You had better send up a sergeant with a few men. The guests, I am afraid, will have to be held. Pick up a doctor of course. Right you are.)”

He hung up, and crossed to the divan for a lounging robe which he flung quickly and deftly over Blake’s body.

“Blake’s dead,” he said to Julian and Joel who had just put in an appearance. “The police are on their way. Meanwhile, if you will excuse me, I shall look the ground over. Seems to have been an impulsive affair,” he continued, “with the knife left behind.” He picked up the long, thin, bronze paper-knife, which lay, stained with blood, a little to the left of the body. There was also a woman’s lace handkerchief, which Belknap offered to Sydney.

“That is not mine,” she said quietly.

“Just as you say,” Belknap replied, thrusting it into his pocket. “We’ll soon know whose it is.”

John came to the door.

“Did you want me, sir?”

“I did, John. Will you round up everyone in the house, including the help. There has been a murder. Colonel Blake. The police will want you all for questioning. Not that most of you aren’t here already,” Belknap smiled at the room. Crawford had come in on Julian’s heels. Romany and Whittaker, however, were still absent.

Belknap bent to the body and examined rapidly and thoroughly.

“There’s the off chance we might find something, Mrs. Crawford,” he remarked. “If Blake, under cover of darkness, returned for a cachÉd Diary and met his death because of it, the murderer may not have had time to relieve him before you, or shall we say I, appeared.”

Sydney made no answer; but her two lovely hands lifted from her lap in a little helpless gesture of futility.

“It is quite obvious,” Julian said unexpectedly, “that you intend to make Mrs. Crawford responsible for Colonel Blake’s death, Mr. Belknap. I feel called upon to ask you to keep your suspicions, even such proof as you may have, until a moment more in keeping with judicial etiquette.”

Belknap flushed darkly.

“Don’t be too hard on our detective, Mr. Prentice,” Nadia cried. “He does not suspect Mrs. Crawford of this ghastly affair, but he very much wishes he did. And the wish has been father to the possibility. He really suspects me. Therein lies the difficulty.”

“Spare the noble gesture, Nadia.” Whittaker was standing in the door. “I suspect you myself when you go altruistic. Ah, Belknap! in your element I see! I can’t believe it. Blake murdered! That it should have happened in my house. Terrible! John said he was unable to rouse Romany with his knock, so I sent one of the maids to her room. And I gave orders for the servants to wait in the hall. Does that meet with your approval, Belknap? I shall sit down, if I may. Last night and this morning, taken together, are more than is good for me.”

As he sank heavily into a chair there was a windy bustle at the front door, a careless, strident laugh, and a stamping of feet, that in its sincere disrespect for the traditions and restraint of Thorngate, announced the arrival of the police. Belknap stepped toward the library door.

“This way, Sergeant. We have been waiting for you.”

“Don’t Sergeant me, Belknap,” came a pleasant, resonant answer from the hall; and a man of medium stature, with clear, blue eyes and gold-bronze hair, faced him in the doorway. “Your humble servant. It’s nice to see you again. I’m only sorry for one thing, that you have the jump on me as usual.”

“Berry! Why, land alive, where did you come from? Don’t worry about being a step behind me. There’s going to be plenty for both of us. Come in. Whittaker, you know Lieutenant Berry. There’s only one other in the room important enough for you to meet at the moment. Berry, this is Colonel Blake. Colonel, Lieutenant Berry has come to see what he can do for you.” Belknap indicated the body with a motion of his hand. “You brought a doctor? It will be convenient to know about when death occurred.”

“Yes. Doctor Giles is here. Giles,” he called. “Get on the job, will you? Come along in, Sergeant. This is Sergeant Stebbins, Ordway Belknap; Belknap, Sergeant Stebbins. Now, old man, what’s the story? The sooner we catch the scent the better. When did you arrive?”

“Before the trouble began. That may help us, and it may not. What do you say, Whittaker? Shall I—”

John’s voice was heard in the hall.

“Oh, Judge! Lily has fallen downstairs. I think it’s a faint, sir.”

“Pick her up,” said Whittaker.

John and two cops between them lifted her to the library couch.

Berry glanced at her.

“If the superstition that the object last beheld leaves its mark branded on the face I should say your Lily had been seeing things! Where has she been?”