“Take a look up there, Hank,” ordered the sheriff. “Since you’ve started to talk, Craven, maybe you can tell us more. Did you hear Vincent’s description over the telephone?”
CRAVEN hesitated. He glanced at Johanna and saw that the housekeeper had weakened. Craven nodded solemnly; then spoke in a sincere tone.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he explained. “When I came in here, I saw a stranger at the telephone. I heard him give a description that answered to Mr. Breck. Then Johanna fainted. I said nothing, sir, for I feared that the master would be annoyed when he returned.”
“But you knew Breck was dead.”
“How so, sir?”
“By what Vincent said.”
“I was not sure, sir.”
Hank had returned. He informed Forey that he had been in the study. He gave a description of the room and the stairway to the side door.
“Desk — tables — books on shelves along the wall,” stated the deputy. “Everything in order. Looked in the closet. Nobody there. The side door was locked, Tim.”
“Bolted?”
“No. Just locked.”
“All right. I’ll go up there later. We’ve got your story, Johanna. You’re all right, Adele. But I want to talk to you some more, Craven. Where did you go after you left Mr. Vincent here?”
“To call Adele, sir,” replied the butler.
“I know that,” growled Forey. “I mean after that. Why weren’t you here to answer the door bell when I arrived?”
“I went to the master’s study, sir,” replied Craven. “I was alarmed by what I had heard. Not finding Mr. Breck, I tapped at the door of his bedroom. There was no response. And then—”
“Yes?”
“I believe that harm must have befallen Mr. Breck. I thought of the side door. I had been in my quarters on the third floor all evening; I had not heard the master go out. But I went down to the side door.”
“Was it locked?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I opened the side door, sir—”
“The locked door?”
“I have a duplicate key, sir.” Craven produced the object and handed it to Forey. “I began to look about, off beyond the house.”
“You mean you went up to the hill road,” challenged Forey.
“No, sir!” exclaimed Craven. “Indeed not! I feared that Mr. Breck might have been injured; that he might be coming in toward the house. I was looking about when your car arrived, sir.”
“Humph,” grunted the sheriff. “Was he here when you got back, Hank?”
“Came down the stairs about ten minutes after we got in,” declared the deputy.
“I had returned to my quarters, sir,” said Craven, to Forey.
“All right,” decided the sheriff. “We’ve established this much. Grantham Breck was accustomed to go in and out of that side door. He could have headed up to the hill. It looks like he was the man Vincent found murdered. Anything else, you two?”
Craven and Johanna shook their heads. It was Adele who burst forth suddenly with an unexpected statement.
“I’LL tell you something!” asserted the cook, with a defiant glance at the other servants. “There was people who came here to see the master. Maybe the same person always; maybe different ones. They came in by that side door.”
“How do you know this?” questioned Forey.
“My room was on that side of the house, sir,” explained Adele. “I was hearing them — on different nights — and I wondered who they might be. I spoke to Mr. Breck, so I did.”
“And what did he say?”
“He was for saying it was my imagination. ‘Adele,’ says he, ‘you’ll be telling me next that there is a banshee round this place.’ So after that, he gave me a room at the front of the house.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“‘Twas a few weeks past,” recalled the cook. “So hearing no more prowlers, I kept to my own business.”
“How do you think these visitors came in? Did they have keys of their own?”
“I think not, sir. I’m believing that Mr. Breck was expecting them. He could have gone down that stairway, sir, to let them come into the house.”
Sheriff Forey resumed his pacing. When he stopped, he faced both Craven and Johanna. The servants eyed him stolidly. Forey smiled sourly.
“What’s your answer?” he demanded. “You’ve heard Adele’s statement. What about these visitors?”
“There may have been such persons, sir,” admitted Craven. “My room is also at the front of the house. I heard no one enter at night.”
“But you knew that Mr. Breck went out?”
“Yes, sir. Recently he developed that habit.”
“Where’s your room, Johanna?”
“It was in the front, sir,” explained the housekeeper, “until Mr. Breck said to me that I should take the room from Adele. There was nothing to make me know why we should change.”
“Did you hear prowlers after you moved to Adele’s room?”
“There was nothing that I heard from my room. Perhaps it is that I sleep very good when I have gone to bed.”
“All right,” declared the sheriff. “That’s all. You can go to your rooms, the three of you. Prepare two rooms on the second floor. Some of us will stay here tonight.”
WHEN the servants had filed out, Forey beckoned to Harry. The sheriff led the way upstairs; they found Breck’s study. The tidiness of the room was a tribute to Johanna’s housekeeping. Then Forey located the stairway; he and Harry descended. Forey unlocked the side door and motioned Harry out into the darkness.
“You’ve clicked with me, Vincent,” assured the sheriff, in a low tone. “I believe the man you found was dead. I’m also sure that it was Grantham Breck. He was an odd sort, Breck. Crafty, like most lawyers.”
“What could he have been doing up by the hill road?” questioned Harry.
“He might have been going up to see Ezekiel Twinton,” replied the sheriff, “but I doubt it. They weren’t such good friends. Breck wanted to buy Twinton’s property — some of it at least — and there was no sale. Both were sort of sore; but there was no real enmity between them.”
“Then Breck would not have been visiting Twinton.”
“That’s just it. I’ve got another theory, though. Sometimes an old duck like Breck gets childish. He probably knew that Twinton was scared. Maybe he went up there occasionally to worry Twinton.”
“I see. So Twinton would be scared to remain on the hill?”
“That’s my idea. Twinton reported prowlers to me not long ago. I’m not going to bother him tonight, although I’ll take a trip in that direction.”
“Perhaps Twinton—”
“Ran into Breck?” put in Forey, as Harry paused. “On the road you mean? I don’t think so. It’s too far below Twinton’s property. However, I’ll remember that, Vincent. There’s a lot to be cleared up. I wish we had found that body.
“You’re to stay here, Vincent” — Forey’s tone became even more cautious as the sheriff paced out upon the sun-scorched lawn — “because we may find that body and when we do, we’ll need your testimony. You’ll have a room on the second floor. So will Hank. One of the other deputies will keep watch on the ground floor.
“Meanwhile, we’ll think of Craven. He had time to beat us getting up to the hill road; he also had plenty of time to get back down here. It’s a tangle, Vincent. We’ll talk it over again after a night’s sleep. Say — it’s a dark night, all right.”
As the sheriff paused, Harry thought he caught a rustle of dried grass near the house. He listened intently; but heard no repetition of the sound. Harry followed the sheriff in through the side door. Forey locked the barrier.
A few minutes later, the crouched figure of a man rose dimly from beside the house. The listener had heard all that passed between Tim Forey and Harry Vincent. Straightening, he hurried toward the front road. From there, he took a short cut over toward the station.