“My God,” I whispered, “who was it? What was it? Where did it come from?”
“As well ask where the shot came from, Knox. Out amongst all those trees, with a house that might have been built for a sounding-board, who could presume to say where either came from? One thing we know, that the shot came from the south.”
He leaned upon a corner of the table, staring at me intently.
“From the south?” I echoed.
Harley glanced in the direction of the open door.
“Presently,” he said, “we shall have to tell Aylesbury everything that we know. After all, he represents the law; but unless we can get Inspector Wessex down from Scotland Yard, I foresee a miscarriage of justice. Colonel Menendez lay on his face, and the line made by his recumbent body pointed almost directly toward”
I nodded, watching him.
“I know, Harley—toward the Guest House.”
Paul Harley inclined his head, grimly.
“The first light which we saw,” he continued, “was in a window of the Guest House. It may have had no significance. Awakened by the sound of a rifle-shot near by, any one would naturally get up.”
“And having decided to come downstairs and investigate,” I continued, “would naturally light a lamp.”
“Quite so.” He stared at me very hard. “Yet,” he said, “unless Mr. Colin Camber can produce an alibi I foresee a very stormy time for him.”
“So do I, Harley. A deadly hatred existed between these two men, and probably this horrible deed was done on the spur of the moment. It is of his poor little
